Frost
by j'aime.volonte
Summary: Gotham's Reckoning has returned, and he has recruited a renowned computer hacker for his ultimate revenge. Post TDKR, Bane/OC, Nolanverse, rated M for mature. Cover Image courtesy of Absinthe Photography, Ryan Denton of RAD! Costuming (Bane), and Lynzy Clefe (Isadora).
1. Prologue

**A/N: Disclaimer for ALL CHAPTERS! I do NOT own Batman or any character or place that originated from Christopher Nolan or any comic book published by DC Comics. I do own the original characters and plot.**

* * *

Doctor Sa'id Alfarsi held his wife and young daughter close to his body as they crouched under their kitchen table in preparation for the blast.

The city was quiet for the first time in months; a hush had descended as if the whole of Gotham was holding its breath. That is, in fact, exactly what Dr. Alfarsi was doing at that very moment as he attempted to soothe his daughter's trembling form while she clung to him. Not even the newscasters on the television in the other room, who had been giving the world moment-by-moment updates on the status of the bomb and its imminent detonation, had said a single word in over ten minutes.

Gotham City and its people were doomed. There was no question now. No one was coming to save them.

It was the screaming, from the street down below their modest third-floor walk-up that gave them any indication that the end had finally come. Strangled sobs came from his wife as she clung to him harder, almost clawing at his person while he attempted to portray a peaceful demeanor. His daughter remained quiet, trembling.

"Shhh… rohi… shhhhhh…" he implored his wife, rocking her gently.

He braced for the blast, attempting to be calm in the face of death. He could not help his thoughts as they drifted to places he did not expect. Would there be pain when the blast reached them? Or would there be a bright light and then… nothing? Would they feel it as their bodies were incinerated? Would his quiet daughter, who in fear, had been unable to speak for days now, finally cry out as the blast from a nuclear bomb seared her flesh till there was nothing left but ash?

The doctor suddenly realized that his mind had wandered for far too long. Death should have already come and gone. He struggled to concentrate on the screaming outside, realizing after a few moments that it was not screaming as such, more like yelling.

Cheering?

_'… bomb has detonated over the bay. I repeat; we have reports that the nuclear bomb has been detonated over the bay, away from Gotham City. Gotham City has been saved. We will report more on this breaking news story as information comes in.'_

Dr. Alfarsi listened intently to the television in the other room while still trying to decipher the noises from the street below. His wife listened as well, quieting her sobs, as she was no longer filled with fear but… hope. She allowed her husband to gently remove himself from her embrace and watched as he stood to investigate. What the doctor saw when he peered out the window and down onto the street gave him hope as well.

The people of Gotham City, young and old, rich and poor, were emerging from their homes, their hiding places, their shelters. They met each other on the streets in celebration. Because if _Gotham's Liberator_ had accomplished anything, it was bringing Gotham's people together as equals in the eyes of each other. Men, women, and children all embraced one another in friendship. They had survived.

They had been saved, but by whom?

The doctor stood, lost to his thoughts for a long time, holding his wife and daughter as they watched the street below. It wasn't until he heard the newscaster reemerge on the television behind him that he was able to tear himself away from the window. He and his wife watched in anticipation as the story unfolded on the screen.

_'We are getting reports that there is still fighting on the ground in Gotham City. We would like to urge the people of Gotham that it is still unwise to leave your homes so please, stay inside until reinforcements can be brought in to assess the threat of the terrorists who remain.'_

The doctor continued to hold his wife and daughter close, wary of the knowledge that even though the bomb was destroyed, there may still be a long fight ahead.

_'We now have confirmed reports that it was, in fact, the Batman who was responsible for detonating the bomb over the bay. Eyewitnesses are telling us that the Batman reemerged from hiding in those last moments, attached the bomb to his flying vehicle, and flew it over the bay. It is unknown-'_

Dr. Alfarsi watched as the newscaster abruptly stopped her report and conversed with a young man who was suddenly at her side, whispering in her ear. He watched the young man walk away, leaving the woman newscaster speechless for a moment before she could gather herself and continue.

_'It has been confirmed. The Batman… is dead.'_

The doctor watched as the newscaster faltered. She couldn't look up towards the camera for several moments. When she finally did, her eyes were glassy and brimming with tears.

_'Reports confirm, that the Batman, in a heroic effort to remove the bomb from the terrorists, had no choice but to deliver the bomb into the bay moments before detonation, sacrificing himself to save the people of Gotham City.'_

His wife gasped at his side.

'_I would… like to offer a moment of silence… for the Batman. Whoever you were, Batman… we thank you.'_

A single tear slipped from the doctor's eye as he watched, still holding his wife and daughter in his arms, and silently thanking the Batman for his sacrifice. He saved them. He didn't have to. He could have been anywhere else. But he was with the people of Gotham City in their final hour. Determination suddenly overcame the doctor.

He turned to his wife, kissed her fiercely, hugged his daughter tightly, and then went to gather his things.

"I must go. I must get to the hospital."

"What?" His wife was stunned. "No! You can't! You heard what she said; we must stay inside. It's still dangerous out there."

He sat on the bench near the front door of their small apartment, slipping on his shoes, and then his warm jacket. He had lost weight in recent months from rationing their food, now his jacket fit looser on him than he remembered. Although, he was still lean and fit for fifty years old. His dark hair was still rich in color except for the grey at his temples. He was a handsome man; his light brown eyes were kind.

He stood up and took hold of his wife's arms, stilling her frantic movements as she began to panic. Once he had her full attention, he spoke, softly.

"I can no longer stand by while people out there are dying because they have no medical help. Look at what he did for us, Havva. He saved us. He didn't have to, but something brought him back to us and he saved _all_ of us. I must do my part. I must honor the gift he gave to us."

He watched as his wife struggled with his decision, her lip quivering as she began to feel shame for not wanting to let him go. But after a moment, she nodded, understanding that the people of Gotham City needed her husband more than she did at that moment.

"Promise…" she started. "Promise that you will return." Her eyes bore into her husband's, looking for his confirmation.

"Rohi…" He pulled her body close to his, still looking into her eyes. "I promise, I will return to you, and to Eda. Promise me that you will stay here, inside this apartment, and you will not open the door for anyone until I come back."

His wife nodded.

"I love you both. I will return."

With a gentle kiss to his wife and his daughter, he quietly slipped from the apartment, listening to the door lock behind him. 

* * *

Dr. Alfarsi was cautious as he slowly made his way to Gotham General Hospital on foot. The people of Gotham paid no heed to the warnings that, in light of recent events, they should not venture out. The doctor merely blended in with the crowd.

_'Safety in numbers,'_ he thought.

The doctor's trust in his ability to blend in with the crowd came to a sudden halt when he realized that he was being followed. There were two men, dressed in plain clothes. They could have been normal citizens, or thugs, or even mercenaries for the Masked Man. It did not matter. He had to make it to the hospital, knowing that he would find safety there… at least he hoped.

He was only a block away from Gotham General when a man approached him from a side alley, startling him.

"Dr. Alfarsi?" the man inquired.

The man looked military, with an American accent. He was in his forties, dark hair and brown eyes. His features were handsome, his jaw line chiseled and his hair cut short. The only feature that seemed out of place was the obvious scarring on the man's neck below his left ear. Scarring that appeared to be severe burns. The man was completely covered, however, so it was impossible to tell just how extensive they were. The doctor attempted to be calm. Perhaps the man just needed his help like so many others that waited for him inside the hospital.

"Yes?"

"Please come with me."

The doctor took in the man's appearance, still unsure if he were friend or foe. He began to step away with caution.

"Wh-?"

But it was too late. A black cloth bag was forced over the doctor's head from behind. Strong hands pulled the doctor's arms behind his back, securing them together at his wrists as he was dragged into the alley for several paces. He could hear the door of a van slide open just before he was thrown inside.

"Be careful with him. We need him." It was the voice of the man who approached him.

Another pair of unknown hands situated the doctor into a more comfortable seated position as the van roared to life and sped off. To where, the doctor could not be sure.

"Please, I have a family. They need me. Please, just let me go." The doctor knew his pleas would go unanswered.

"We are quite aware of your family, Doctor. We followed you from your home, leaving a few of our men behind to protect them while you are away. Please don't give us a reason to harm them."

The doctor panicked internally, wondering if he should have just stayed at home like his wife had wanted of him. It probably would not have made a difference, he realized.

"Where are you taking me?" the doctor inquired, softly.

"Not far."

That was all that was said for the rest of the trip, nearly 10 minutes in the doctor's estimation.

When the van pulled to a stop, he was forced, more gently this time, out of the van. He was lead through a door, up a flight of stairs, and down a hallway. The smell of the building was clean, clinical, perhaps a dentist or doctor's office. They stopped in front of a door at the end of the hallway, where his escort knocked and waited. When the door opened, the doctor was shoved through. Once inside and the door shut behind them, they removed the bag over the doctor's head.

He took in his surroundings. Yes, a doctor's office. It was dark, no lights were on, but everything was intact and not vandalized.

The doctor was led further back to an examination room. The sight that greeted him was not what he had expected, and yet, given the men who captured him, he was not entirely surprised.

On the examination table in front of him, lay Gotham's liberator, the Masked Man himself.

Bane.

He was unconscious, bleeding, charred, and broken. The doctor was sure that the man lying in front of him was dead. How could he not be? Eyeing his injuries, he looked to have been… blown up? It was a rather fitting predicament, the doctor thought.

"Good evening, Dr. Alfarsi."

A voice spoke from his left. It was a distantly familiar voice. The doctor turned to confront it. He took in the sight of a ghost, a man he thought had been dead for quite some time, long before he came to America with his pregnant wife several years ago.

"Amin?"

"Sa'id." The man offered a less formal greeting.

The doctor could not believe his eyes; it wasn't possible. The disappearance of Amin Samara was widely spoken of in most medical circles in Iran. The unknown whereabouts of the kind doctor, who never made it home from his shift at the hospital, was speculated to death. It was thought that he had been taken prisoner by the Iranian military police, never to be heard from again.

"You were dead."

"Mm… yes," he said with an amused smile.

Amin was casual and polite. He allowed the doctor to gawk at him for a moment, trying to compose himself. Amin had aged much since their last meeting. He was in his fifties; dark hair peppered with grey, a grey mustache and dark eyes, handsome still, the likes of Omar Sharif.

"How…?" the doctor started.

"We do not have much time, Doctor. As you can see, our brother is in need of immediate medical attention. Attention that I cannot wholly provide. But you… have skills beyond most doctors in your field. Skills that, I believe, are being sorely overlooked. Tell me, Doctor. How is it that one of the most brilliant surgical minds in the world is wasting his time in a place like Gotham General Hospital? You have the skills to save those who are much more deserving, don't you agree?"

The doctor flinched. Although it was not the first time that he, himself, had made such a realization, he would not fall prey to the group's extremist rhetoric.

"Every human being deserves to live. None is more deserving than another." The doctor was defiant.

"I hoped you would say that." Amin smiled. "That is why you are going to save our brother. And moreover, given your elite talents, you are going to repair his body to pristine condition."

The doctor was suddenly incredulous, looking back and forth from Amin to the monster lying on the table.

"Pristine condition?"

"Yes. You see, our brother has struggled with the state of his damaged body for quite some time, never having the opportunity to have his injuries corrected…"

Amin directed the doctor's attention to Bane's mask.

"It pumps analgesic gas into his system, alleviating the near constant state of excruciating pain his body endures. Even now, the mask is dulling his pain receptors, which is why he is not dead. But it will not be long before his injuries overtake him."

The doctor could not deny how intrigued he was by the mask. He longed to study it. Yet he understood that this was hardly the time. His life and the lives of his wife and daughter were being held hostage by the monster lying in front of him, even in his unconscious state. The doctor turned back to Amin, ready to make a deal.

"If I do this for you… Havva and Eda… you will not… hurt them?"

The doctor was struggling to remain calm as he thought of all the terrible things they could do to his wife and daughter. It was his only concern, making sure they would remain safe and alive. His life, he understood, may be forfeit by the end of his task. They would not leave him as a loose end, someone who had knowledge that Bane was still alive. And once more, being the doctor who repaired the monster's body back to 'pristine condition', they would not want that known to the public.

Amin watched the emotions play across the doctor's face. Yes, he had the doctor right where he wanted him. He would do this, if only to save his family.

"I would not dream of bringing harm to Havva and Eda. But you must understand, Doctor, I am uneasy with the position of power that I am putting you in. You could end our brother's life so easily. So in order to… keep your motives in line with ours… we will hold your wife and daughter until you have succeeded."

"And if I don't succeed?" the doctor barked out. Sa'id could not let them think that he had all of the control. Sometimes, a mere man cannot contend with God's plan.

"Oh, you will succeed, Doctor. Havva and Eda are depending on you."

Amin's tone was cruel, all friendliness gone. He waited for the doctor to pull himself together, watching as Sa'id became resigned to his fate.

Amin continued, congenial once again. "I have made preparations for everything you may need during the procedure, Doctor. I will assist you. I suggest you scrub in. Time is… of the essence."

Dr. Alfarsi eased off his jacket, handing it to one of the men who stood at his side. He began to clear his mind, mentally preparing himself for the task at hand. He could not afford to go into the procedure with negative thoughts. Like he always did, when preparing himself for surgery, he set his mind in a more positive direction. He would succeed. There was no other option. 

* * *

The doctor was in surgery for just over 10 hours. The most immediate issue was in stabilizing his patient. Once the patient was stable, he began to map out a course of action. He took in all of the information he could gather on the man's previous injuries before he was, from what he could only guess, blown up by a rocket launcher. The old injuries were appalling, indeed. How they were treated at the time, the doctor discovered, really was a most gross form of negligence.

Aside from the most recent injuries from the blast, the doctor observed every inch of the man's body with scrutiny. His muscle mass was like nothing he had ever encountered. He recalled how easy it was for this man to snap the neck of that poor nuclear physicist after destroying the Gotham Rogue's Stadium. He also noted numerous scars. It was plain to see that the man had been tortured in his past. Such scars were all too common in war-torn areas of the world. He had seen many such instances when he practiced medicine in Iran. The damage to his spine would be irreversible in the eyes of other surgeons of a lesser caliber, but not him. He was renowned for his talents, had many times provided the expertise to allow people who were paralyzed to move again.

Being a slave to his craft, he could not deny that the man's body provided a challenge, and fascinated him in ways that he had never anticipated. Although exhausted by the end of the procedure, the doctor was attentive to his patient in those following days, being the sole caregiver while the monster's body healed.

It was on the fourth day that the monster awoke.

Bane, medicated to a state of confusion, gradually opened his eyes, observing his surroundings with trepidation. The doctor was at his side immediately, examining him to get a better picture of his current state.

"Mr. Bane. I am Dr. Alfarsi. Please mind the tube down your throat, do not try to speak."

Bane began to struggle with the tube then, now aware of its presence.

"Please try to relax, Mr. Bane. I will attempt to remove the tube but you must stop struggling."

Bane nodded, calmly, and let the doctor do his job. Once the tube was removed, Bane regained a measure of control. He had no knowledge of his whereabouts, if he was being held captive, or if he was in the presence of allies. His next observation was the disappearance of his mask, which was not an immediate concern, as he felt none of the familiar agony he would usually feel without it.

Dr. Alfarsi could not help but stare at Bane for several moments, observing how… normal… the injured man seemed without his mask, human. But it was not long before he went back to the task at hand, understanding that he was looking upon a sleeping dragon that could strike without cause.

Bane was also examining the doctor before him, noting the doctor's attempt to control his obvious fear. He realized, though, that the doctor was intent in his task, gentle and kind in handling him, traits one could only respect. Bane attempted to speak, which was a difficult task because his throat was sore and his voice raspy.

"Where…" he started, then attempted to clear his throat. "Where am I?"

"You are safe, brother." Amin stepped through the door to the recovery room, dismissing the doctor with a nod so he could speak with Bane alone.

The doctor was perfectly content with this, not wanting to spend any more time than was absolutely necessary with such an evil man. He stepped out of the room and walked down the hall to his sleeping quarters.

Once alone, Amin spoke first, intent on debriefing their leader on the state of affairs.

"How are you feeling? Any pain?"

"Talia?" It was Bane's only answer.

Amin took pause for several moments before forcing himself to make eye contact with Bane. His response was calm but sure.

"Dead. Killed by the Batman."

Bane's nostrils flared as he broke eye contact with Amin and instead, looked through him.

"The bomb?"

"The Batman detonated the bomb over the bay, away from the city… killing himself in the process."

Bane was suddenly murderous. His pulse began to race, his breathing rampant, setting off alarms to the medical equipment that was monitoring his body.

How _dare _he be denied his revenge! Bruce Wayne killed his Talia and there was no way to make him suffer for it!

"Sir, you must not agitate yourself." Amin attempted to calm him. "You are recovering from intensive surgery; you need time to recover."

"Where is my mask?" Bane's tone was sinister.

"It is here." Amin brought forth the device, laying it on Bane's lap before he continued. "You no longer need it… for its intended purpose. We acquired the talents of Dr. Alfarsi to repair your body of your old and new injuries alike."

Bane looked closely at Amin now, contemplating the new state of his body. If what Amin was saying were true, he no longer would need the mask for his pain. He would only admit to himself that the idea elated and frightened him. The mask had been his constant companion, an extension of himself. He could not decide at that moment whether he was pleased with the outcome or not.

Amin pulled Bane from his thoughts, intent on finishing their conversation in an attempt to remain on schedule.

"We have acquired a new base of operations. It is imperative that we move you out of Gotham City so you can recover out of harms way. You are believed to be dead, although they have not found your body. We must move quickly, we have been here too long already."

Bane was lost in thought for several moments. He pulled himself back to the present, in agreement with Amin's assessment. A new sense of purpose was building a platform in his mind. He would go away from Gotham City, recover, rebuild his forces and then train his body back to its former glory. But he would return… to exact terrible vengeance for his Talia.

The people of Gotham would burn. 

* * *

Dr. Alfarsi decided that it would be a good time to freshen up while Amin spoke with Bane. He washed his face in the bathroom sink and had just laid himself down on his cot for a short rest when the door opened and Amin walked through. The doctor stood up, facing Amin as he stood before him, Amin's hands clasped behind his back.

"Well Sa'id, now that our brother is well on the road to recovery, we are no longer in need of your services."

It was not relief that was showing on the doctor's face, but fear. Now that they no longer needed him, would they let him go? He said nothing and waited for Amin to continue.

"We are preparing to leave this establishment at nightfall. I will take over as caregiver while our brother is in recovery. I believe it is time for us to escort you home, don't you agree?"

Dr. Alfarsi could not hide the shocked look he knew was on his face. He stuttered slightly, attempting to respond.

"Y-yes. Thank you," he said with a nod.

"Very well. Your transport awaits." Amin gestured for the doctor to exit the room before him, pausing briefly while the doctor grabbed his coat.

The doctor stopped just outside the door and turned to Amin.

"Havva and Eda… they are safe and unharmed?" The doctor could not help but question, he had to make sure that Amin was keeping his end of the bargain.

"Of course, old friend. They are in fine health. You have succeeded, there is no reason for us to harm them."

Amin gestured for the doctor to continue forward. When they reached the entrance to the office, the man who first approached the doctor on his walk to the hospital was waiting for him. He had a black, cloth bag in his hands.

"You will forgive the inconvenience, be we cannot allow you to know our position. For obvious reasons… I'm sure you will understand," Amin said, quietly.

"Of course," the doctor agreed.

The bag was pulled over his head once more before the door at the entrance was opened. They had not walked far when Amin placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder.

"It was a pleasure to see you again, old friend."

Before the doctor could respond, he was forced out of the office and down the hallway, then down the flight of stairs and outside into the brisk air. He heard the sound of a van door opening, and then he was placed inside, with more consideration than the previous time.

The drive took about 15 minutes, which seemed consistent, in the doctor's mind, if they intended to take him straight home to his apartment. The van came to an abrupt stop and the doctor was pulled from the van and onto his feet. The bag was removed from over his head. It was in that moment that Dr. Alfarsi realized he had been incredibly mistaken.

The view before him was of the Queens River. They were in the China Basin, at the docks, not his apartment. He was standing between the open van door and the edge of the dock, merely a foot or two away. Resignation was all the doctor could offer in that moment, for he feared being a loose end that needed tied, and he was right. He looked to his escort, the man who looked to be American military.

"Are they still alive?"

"Yes." The man was very matter-of-fact. "They are alive and unharmed."

"Thank you."

It was all the doctor could say. He would accept his fate with dignity, knowing that his wife and daughter were still alive. It was their faces he saw when he closed his eyes. He tried to recall the scent of his wife's perfume, the sound of his daughter's infectious laugh. He held his breathe, lost in those memories.

He didn't notice as his escort quietly stepped behind him, aimed a pistol to the back of the doctor's skull, and fired.

The doctor's body conveniently fell into the icy waters of the river below.


	2. Chapter One

It was in the China Basin, near the docks that became the final resting place of Dr. Sa'id Alfarsi over a year previous, that a young woman walked home to her warehouse studio apartment on her way back from getting her weekly groceries. It was a beautiful May evening, and with a paper bag in each arm, she steadily made her way to the door that lead up a flight of stairs to her apartment above the auto repair shop on the ground level.

Isadora El Asri was a young woman, mid-twenties, with long chocolate brown hair and blue eyes. Newer to Gotham City, having moved there after the city was held hostage the previous year, she found the city quite accommodating and the rent uncommonly cheap. She was an elegantly dressed young woman; pencil skirts and vintage sweater sets, all acquired at the city's numerous thrift shops. She was a normal girl who blended in with her surroundings. And that was the way she liked to be seen, given her profession, or, hobby really.

A computer science major, graduated from MIT, Isadora worked from home. The apartment fit her needs, pleasantly, having plenty of space to accommodate her dog; a Husky-mix named Wallace. There was convenient access to the roof that provided sufficient outdoor space. She liked to sit up there sometimes, watching the ships as they moved down the Queens River. She didn't have many neighbors in the immediate vicinity, and the guys who worked in the auto repair shop below her apartment were polite to her. Her landlord owned the shop; he was kind, older, a widower with five grown children. He paid her little mind. He was discreet, letting her pay her rent in cash and not bothering to do a credit check on her. The name on her lease was "I. Wallace".

She contracted out her skills, working jobs that were sent to her from friends and professional colleagues that worked in similar fields that she so excelled in. Being a hacker-for-hire could be a very lucrative gig at times.

What no one could fathom about the quiet young woman with the dog is that Isadora El Asri was very well known by many in the world, and yet, not known at all.

She worked her trade in secret, under the handle 'Jack Frost'.

There were many in the world that would pay good money to know her whereabouts. Making her debut appearance to the world at the age of fifteen, hacking the privately funded Flora-tech Institute and gaining access to information on seven deadly bio-weapons that were being developed on American soil. She posted her findings, of course. The board in charge of the Institute did nothing but refute the posted information, stating a malicious prankster was at work. She was known to the underground community as a 'White Hat Without a Cause', having made an elegant point in hacking into the Flora-tech Institute, but having nothing come of her work. She held no allegiance to anyone. She was a puzzle-breaker, a safe cracker, and only for her amusement, it would seem. She could break into any technological vault known to man, steal billions of dollars right out from under the most advanced security systems, and just for the sole reason that… she could. Upon solving a puzzle, as she liked to describe it, she would leave a calling card of sorts. Her calling card would consist of a detailed account of how easy it was to infiltrate their security measures, along with a detailed description of how to fix the problems she found, all of this after installing a playful virus that froze the operating system she just infiltrated with a beautiful graphic of spreading frost.

Isadora also found it amusing that when those in her field of expertise would speak of Jack Frost, they would do so assuming she was male. Because surely no woman could possibly have the mental skill to out-rank some of the most famous of the world's known hackers.

She was not completely infallible, though. During a rather high-profile project she was working on for her own amusement, she succeeded in infiltrating WayneTech Enterprises. They were alerted to her presence immediately, and even though she covered her tracks in the most elaborate ways known and unknown to the hacking world, they tracked her down within hours.

For not seeing much after opening the vault she was attempting to crack, the response of WayneTech Enterprises was nothing short of over the top. An army of men in black combat attire arrived in three black SUV's, raiding her small Arlington, Massachusetts home. She was not fully surprised until a black helicopter landed in the field next to her house. Deciding to give in immediately, in fear that they would break her door down and drag her out, she calmly stepped out onto her front porch and waited for them to approach her.

That was when she met Lucius Fox.

He emerged from the helicopter, calm and collected. She recalled him being amused at the sight of her. Asking his men to stand down, he suggested they go inside and sit down for a chat. It was during this chat, after the laughably small reprimand before coffee was served, that Lucius spoke seriously with her about a career at WayneTech Enterprises. She was 19 years old.

She declined the offer, intent on graduating from MIT and getting her degree in Computer Science before making any career moves. Lucius understood. He inquired after her family, noting that she lived alone. Isadora explained that she lost her parents the year before in a tragic car accident, leaving her with a deed to their home, a small inheritance and a younger brother to care for.

Her brother, Gabriel, was a year younger. At the time, he had just moved to Boston to attend the School of the Museum of Fine Arts.

After her sincere promise to not go digging into WayneTech Enterprises again, Lucius Fox took his men and left. She remained in contact with Lucius Fox ever since, and was pleased with the fact that he never gave her away, her true identity only known to him and his team. It was when Gotham City settled after being held hostage by the Masked Man that she decided to move there. She didn't seek Lucius Fox out, but she knew his offer was open-ended.

Wallace greeted her at the door when she arrived home that evening. He wiggled and nudged her legs in excitement as she walked/stumbled inside. After putting the groceries on the countertop in the kitchen, she walked directly to her laptop to check the status of her offshore bank account.

Isadora used that account as a means to launder the money she received from her jobs. The account was set up under a corporation, 'Jack Of All Trades Publishing House', the corporation and it's CEO being non-existent, and there were enough confusing layers between her and her job offers to make tracking her down a logistical nightmare. The down payment on a recent job offer was scheduled to arrive that day. The job was simple enough. She was being hired by a tech firm in northern Germany to infiltrate their security wall to check for cracks or unknown back doors. The down payment had not yet arrived and banking hours were officially over for the day. She would decline the job completely at this point. She had no patience for incompetency.

With a sigh she reached for Wallace and cuddled him a moment before she had to return to the groceries in the kitchen. Once the groceries were put away, she led Wallace out onto the fire escape and up to the roof. She had set up a makeshift yard up there for him, a patch of grass and two potted apple trees. With her binoculars in tow, she sat down in her red Adirondack chair, facing the river, and watched the ships pass by in the dimming evening light.

The river was mostly quiet at that time of day, not a lot of movement, just a few fishing boats here and there. It wasn't long before a very large ship came into view. She stood up and walked to the edge of the roof to try and get a closer look. The large ship steadily moved up the river and slowed to a stop across the water from the docks, too large to dock up close to the land. She could barely see the name of the ship in the evening light. Straining, she finally made out the ship's name, 'USS Wasp'.

Interested to know more about this huge vessel, she used her phone to do a web search of the ship. The USS Wasp, a US Navy LHD (Landing Helicopter Deck) Amphibious Assault Ship, was decommissioned last year and was set to make its new home as the first Wasp Class Naval Museum on the east coast.

Intrigued, she watched closer as a smaller landing craft emerged from the back of the ship's hull. It appeared that the entire back lower portion of the ship could be opened and flooded to enable that process. She watched the craft approach the docks, which were now empty that late in the day. Once docked, she observed the group of men that filtered out of the boat.

Isadora noted a strange feeling in her gut as she watched the men disembark. They did not look to be US Navy, which would make sense she supposed, as the ship was now decommissioned. But they did not look civilian either. In fact, they looked to be very much of a military stock. Two black SUV's were waiting for their arrival. She watched as the men entered the vehicles and were whisked away.

Something just didn't feel right. She found herself grimacing to no one in particular, and unsure if there was anything really wrong, she decided to just wait and observe over the next few days. 

* * *

By the third day, she decided to take action. After watching diligently to the comings and goings of the ships occupants, mostly in the early morning hours when she let Wallace out to relieve himself, or in the evenings after the dockworkers went home for the day, she decided to get a closer view.

Knowing the docks were labeled as a 'high risk for crime' area, and therefore under 24-hour surveillance by the city, she decided to tap into the security cameras in the area of the docks so she could get a better look. Retreating to her laptop that morning, she made quick work of accessing the Department of Transportation's network, thankful that she left a port open for herself the last time she had to gain access for a job she was working on. The bird's eye view of the docks was immediately available to her, four cameras in all, one of those cameras conveniently placed at the dock that the unknown men would access as they came and went.

After watching them arrive at the docks early that morning, all she had to do was sit and wait for them to come back so they could return to the ship. She would be ready for them.

"Come on, Wallace." She called to her companion who was napping in the sunlight coming through the floor to ceiling windows at the front of her apartment. He jumped up immediately, following his human to the side window.

Isadora took her cup of coffee and a bucket of water and led Wallace out onto the fire escape and up onto the roof. With no current job to work on, she had plenty of free time to tend to her rooftop garden. Gardening was such a relaxing process and provided her with a food source when the money wasn't coming in on a regular basis. Wallace was content to lie back down in the sunlight, watching her steadily and dozing occasionally.

"Lying down on the job again, I see," she spoke to Wallace. "This garden isn't going to water itself, you know."

Wallace let go a single bark, apparently amused with his human and her demands.

Smirking at him, she finished her watering of the small garden. Looking up at the clear sky, she hoped for more rain in the coming days, because trudging water up the stairs from her apartment was getting rather taxing.

It was near dark that evening, while she was enjoying a cup of tea, that she noticed movement out on the docks. She took hold of her binoculars, walked to the edge of the rooftop, and peered out. They were returning to their ship. She gracefully bolted from the edge of the roof, Wallace in tow, and ran down the stairs to her apartment to get a better look at them from her laptop. Once she reached her computer, she was rather confused at what she saw.

Nothing.

Isadora sat down immediately, her fingers dancing over her keyboard as she tried to access the docks from every camera angle. There was nothing. They should be there… _right there_. There was no way they could have left the dock in the time it took her to get downstairs. She switched camera angles over and over again. It was a few minutes before something strange caught her eye.

Zooming in on the picture before her, and even leaning towards her computer screen as if that would help her view, she noted a bright yellow Jeep parked near the dock in question. Leaning back into her chair, her brow furrowed, she took a few moments to think.

"I don't remember that Jeep being there before," she said to herself.

Her eyebrows lifted in sudden realization. She grabbed her binoculars and raced back up to the roof before it was too dark to tell from her vantage point. Reaching the edge of the roof again, she brought the binoculars to her eyes and looked out at the docks. She scanned the area; the men who arrived at the docks were long gone now. Walking up and down the length of the rooftop, she searched for the yellow Jeep.

It wasn't there.

"I wonder…"

She raced back down the stairs and jumped through her window, Wallace following behind her the entire time. Sitting back down in front of her laptop, she made quick work of re-accessing her port to the Department of Transportation's network, keeping a close eye for any underlying scripts that she did not notice before. That's when she saw it. Someone had written a loop into the camera footage from the docks. From how long ago, she could not be certain. But she felt safe to assume that it was before the USS Wasp had arrived.

Leaving the looping script in place, she gently created her own backdoor access port to the one created by whoever enabled the loop. Within moments, the camera view changed. With a flicker of the image on the screen, the yellow Jeep disappeared, showing her a live view of the docks.

"You're smart. But not smart enough to keep _me_ out," Isadora spoke to the computer screen. "Now, just what are you trying to hide?"

She worked diligently all night, trying to track the looping script back to its origin. Although tracking an IP address was not the main focus of her hobby, she was gifted at the task. She had to be in order to hide within the complicated illusions that she wrote to protect herself. Knowing all the tricks, she eventually tracked the code to a one square mile area around the docks.

"Are you on the ship, perhaps?" she said to herself.

It would make sense, she concluded. Satisfied that the odd feeling she felt in her gut the moment the ship arrived was legitimately placed, she allowed herself to relax. After a few hours of sleep, she would wake before dawn, waiting and watching for the men to arrive at the docks. A closer look was all she needed. 

* * *

At 6:00 A.M. the next morning, she sat in front of her laptop, a cup of chicory coffee in her hand, patiently watching the four camera angles on her screen. It wasn't long before she saw the familiar landing craft approach the dock. She waited, not blinking, as she viewed their approach and watched several men exit the boat and walk up the dock.

What she saw in that moment was more than she had anticipated. Walking within a cluster of five other men, the familiar image of the Masked Man, Bane himself, became clear on her screen. Everyone said he was dead… apparently not. She zoomed in, not quite believing her eyes. She just… watched.

Bane walked with his men at a leisurely pace, his hands gripping the collar of his vest. In relation to the size of his men that walked beside him, he was enormous. His arms were bare, bulging with defined muscle. His mask covered the majority of his face, leaving only his eyes and a portion of his skull uncovered. His eyes, she found, gave the illusion that he was smiling under his mask. Perhaps he was.

Isadora had to make a conscious effort to close her mouth, realizing that she had been sitting there for several moments with her jaw hanging low. Before she lost sight of the group of men, she took several screen-shots of the different camera angles. The images could be very useful to her, but whom should she send them to?

Gradually leaning back into her chair, she stared at the screen in front of her, watching the men leave the docks in the familiar black SUV's. She had a decision to make. Knowing what she knew, it was her duty to tell someone that could do something about it. Given the rather illegal means that she obtained the information, she would have to do it anonymously, and the information could not be linked back to her in any way.

She was absolutely certain, though, _'This is not good.'_

* * *

Returning home that afternoon, after free-running her usual obstacle course near the baseball field a block away from her apartment, she was greeted with a private encoded message from her hacker friend, Fonzarelli. He often spoke to her of his womanizing; his chosen handle suiting him quite well. He wanted to be like Fonzie, so who was she to judge? She often laughed at his exploits, knowing that if he knew she were a woman, it would most likely turn his friendship with her upside down.

Fonzarelli was often the source of her more challenging job offers. He was a high -level hacker, a Grey Hat. He would send her jobs that she guessed, without confirming with him, that he had already attempted but failed at. Fonzarelli would never admit to that, of course.

"What do you have for me today, Fonzie?" she spoke to her computer screen.

**Fonzie: Frost, I have a puzzle for you. Are you interested?**

Isadora logged on to their private channel; Fonzarelli was online.

**Frost: A puzzle? A job?**

**Fonzie: A job. You will be compensated handsomely.**

**Frost: What does the job entail?**

**Fonzie: I cannot divulge any information about the job. It is… sensitive. I can tell you that the job will be on site. You will have to come to them.**

She looked at the screen, incredulously. She did _not_ go to a job; the job came to her. Her privacy and protection depended on it.

**Frost: You know that I only do jobs that come to me; I do not go to the job.**

**Fonzie: Look, Frost… I was hoping it wouldn't come down to this… but you have to do this job. You… don't have a choice.**

Her brow furrowed as she leaned back in her chair, suddenly wary.

**Frost: What do you mean I don't have a choice?**

**Fonzie: Frost, I'm going to level with you… I tried to do the job myself, but I failed. I could only get so far and I need your help to finish it. I'm mixed up with some very dangerous people. They have my mother. If I can't do the job, they will kill her. I need your help. Please. I'm begging you.**

**Frost: So you are not only putting your own life at risk but pulling me into your ridiculous mess as well? I don't care how handsomely they will pay me; I like living far more.**

Isadora was baffled at the turn of events, and yet worried for her friend. Perhaps she could find a way to help him without getting involved.

**Fonzie: I'm tracking you.**

**Frost: WHAT?**

Now she was pissed. Hackers DO NOT track her. It's… rude. Though there was no real need to be worried, she was extremely skilled at hiding herself, she hoped.

**Fonzie: I'm sorry, but I have no other choice. I need your help and I'm not above dirty tricks to save my mother's life. Forgive me.**

**Frost: How long?**

She wanted to know how long he estimated it would take him to find her.

**Fonzie: I won't tell you that. I need you. Please don't run. They will kill her, and then me.**

Isadora spent many moments looking not at, but through the computer screen in front of her. What could she do? It was likely that he would be successful and track her down. Could she deal with the guilt of causing the deaths of two people if she ran? Maybe she could do the job, get out clean, and save his life and the life of his mother in the process. She didn't doubt her skills; she knew she would succeed.

**Fonzie: Frost?**

The ping of his instant message tore her away from her thoughts.

**Frost: I'm still here. Where is the job?**

**Fonzie: All I can tell you is that it is on a ship, away from the main land.**

Her eyes went wide in sudden realization and fear. She knew exactly the ship he was talking about. There was no way it was a coincidence. Trying desperately to still her frantically beating heart, she pulled herself back to the situation at hand, her mind racing. With eyes closed, she hesitantly typed out a response.

**Frost: I will help you.**

**Fonzie: You will? You won't run?**

**Frost: I will. I won't run. How long do I have to prepare?**

**Fonzie: 2 days. I am getting closer as we speak, but I will give you time to get your affairs in order. You may be away from home for a while.**

**Frost: I understand.**

**Fonzie: Frost?**

**Frost: Fonzie?**

**Fonzie: Thank you.**

She glared at her computer screen, still fuming from the situation she now found herself in.

**Frost: … you're welcome.**

**Fonzie: I must admit, I am excited and honored to finally meet you in person. You are a hero of mine, Jack Frost, now in more ways than one.**

**Frost: Until then.**

Isadora logged off, pushed away from her desk, and pulled a whiskey bottle from her cupboard along with a glass. She poured a finger's worth, and then wandered upstairs to the roof.

Sitting down under a potted apple tree with Wallace at her side, she tipped the contents of her glass back and down her throat. The sting was welcoming. Wallace huffed as he lay down, placing his head in her lap.

"What the fuck do I do now?" she said to no one in particular.


	3. Chapter Two

Eli Horowitz, known to the underground hacking community as 'Fonzarelli', was the lead computer security technician for the Flora-tech Institute. It was for that reason, alone, that Bane and his mercenaries targeted him for their task. He had been in their possession for weeks, having been taken directly from the Flora-tech Institute offices in downtown Gotham City as he left for home one Friday evening. Although taken by force, he was offered substantial payment for his work, and as long as he succeeded, he would be paid accordingly. If he failed, his life and the life of his mother would be forfeit.

He was held at a remote location to start his work. It was only after moving him aboard their new base of operations, the decommissioned USS Wasp, a few days before, that he had to finally admit to his captors that he was not qualified to finish the job. Although able to deconstruct and bypass the security measures to get to the device they wanted so eagerly, he didn't have the ability to acquire the access needed to open the device. He had attempted to plead his case to Bane quickly, and with a possible resolution to his inadequacies.

Jack Frost.

"He is the only person I know of that has the skill to break into the device. It is because of talent like his, that such complicated security measures were put in place to begin with."

Eli prayed for understanding, hoping that providing a solution for his lack of skill would not give Bane a reason to kill him.

Bane sat casually in a chair on the bridge of the ship, his feet resting on the control desk. He did not look at Eli and he did not say a word for several moments.

"Why then, Mr. Horowitz, are you still here?" Bane's words were deep and mechanical as he spoke through his mask.

Eli understood immediately what Bane was as asking. Why are you still alive? If I have no use for you, why have I not killed you yet? Eli rushed to answer.

"Jack Frost is elusive. No one knows who he is. But I can track him down for you. I can lead you right to him. I know he will accept the job."

"Do you?" Bane said, now openly scrutinizing Eli from across the room. "Then I suggest you get busy."

Without another word, Eli retreated to his makeshift work area. He accessed the private channel that he used to speak with Jack Frost, noting that he was not online. So he sent a private encoded message, hoping that Jack Frost would respond sooner rather than later. Once the message was sent, he did what he promised himself he would never do; he began to track down the whereabouts of the world-renowned hacker, Jack Frost.

* * *

"He agreed to take the job. I am currently tracking him. I advised him that we would come for him in two days time," Eli offered.

"And why, Mr. Horowitz, are we unable to retrieve him now?" Bane was losing patience.

"He would not give up his location, sir. He will make us come to him. And he may be clever at hiding himself, but not that clever. In good faith, I am allowing him time to get his affairs in order. Once I narrow down his location, you can go get him."

"You are playing with my patience, Mr. Horowitz," Bane said in a deadly tone as he crossed the room in a few large strides to take Eli's throat in his large hand. "You would do well to tread… lightly."

"Yes… sir…" Eli choked out.

Bane practically threw Eli against the far wall as he exited the room. It took several minutes of Eli gasping for breath before he could finally stand. He returned to his computer, where he would remain until Jack Frost's location was finally revealed.

* * *

Lucius Fox, CEO of WayneTech Enterprises, entered his office that warm May morning with a cup of coffee in hand and a towering stack of paperwork on his desk, waiting to be signed.

With a sigh as he eyed the stack of papers, he turned on his computer to find a private encoded message waiting for him in his inbox.

**To: Lucius Fox**  
**From: Jack Frost**  
**Subject: We need to meet**  
**Attachment: walkingdead . jpg**

Lucius opened the attached file. His jawed dropped as he took in the image before him, his coffee cup hovering above his lap, frozen in place. There before him was a picture of Bane, a very alive Bane. The image was taken, although he could not be entirely sure from the angle, from the China Basin docks.

He placed his coffee cup on his desk, and turned to reply to the message, sending his encoded response.

**To: Jack Frost**  
**From: Lucius Fox**  
**Subject: Meet on your rooftop, tonight.**

Pushing the towering stack of papers aside, Lucius Fox suddenly had a very important call to make.

* * *

"So Lucius has been keeping tabs on me," she smirked, reading the encoded response from Lucius Fox.

Now that she received her response from Lucius, it was time to get things in order. The most important item on her agenda, her loved ones.

Isadora looked down at Wallace, who was curled beneath her chair, napping. It was always amusing to her that he chose that spot over any other, barring sunlight on the floor, to lie down. She always had to be cautious not to roll over him.

"What do you say, Wallace…" she called to him. He lifted his head in response. "How about a visit to Uncle Gabe?" Wallace only eyed her suspiciously and then laid his head back down.

Her brother, Gabriel, graduated last year from the Boston School of the Museum of Fine Arts, only to become a professor at the same school the following year. Being that school had just let out, she hoped she would be able to convince her brother to take Wallace and go into hiding. She wouldn't be able to explain everything to him, of course, but he trusted her, and if she said to do something, he usually did it without question.

She picked up her cell phone and called her brother. He picked up the phone after the first ring.

"Well, hello there little big sister!" he said, joyfully.

She smiled at his reference to the fact that she was indeed, MUCH smaller than him, even though she was older.

"Hello, big little brother!" she responded in kind.

"To what do I owe the honor?" He was playful with her; it made her smile.

"I… have a very important favor to ask," she said, hesitant, and in a more sober tone.

"What's the matter, Isa?" He was worried now.

Gabriel knew exactly the type of hobbies Isadora was skilled at. He always worried for her safety, knowing that she could piss off the wrong people, or get arrested. He trusted her judgment, though, as any younger brother who adored his big sister would.

"Something has… developed. Although I'm going to have to ask that you not question me about it. I need you to do exactly as I say." She was already pleading with him.

"Of- of course, Isa. Tell me what I can do."

She knew she could count on him.

"I need you to take Wallace and go home for a while. I've been pulled into something beyond my control and I need to make sure you and Wallace are safe. Do you understand?"

Gabriel was concerned now. "For how long, Isa?"

"At the moment? Indefinitely. As soon as this is over, I will come for you, and when I do I will be able to explain everything."

He didn't answer immediately. She suddenly realized that she was holding her breath as she waited for him to respond.

"Of course, Isa. Anything."

She exhaled in relief. "Can you be here tomorrow morning?"

"I'll be there." His joyful demeanor was now gone.

"I love you, brother."

"I love you too."

Gabriel hung up, leaving his big little sister to feel the full force of her guilt. Isadora stood, motionless, for several minutes until finally pulling herself together.

Walking back to her laptop, she sat down and began the process of tracking her friend. "Turnabout is fair play, Fonzarelli." The only sound in her apartment was the clicking of the keys on her keyboard. "Give it up, Fonzie. Are you friend or foe?"

It didn't take long to compile a file on Eli Horowitz. Within an hour she had his full name, picture, banking information, tax returns, his address and employment information. He was 35 years old and lived with his mother. For some reason this did not surprise her. Isadora found it interesting, though, that Eli worked for the Flora-tech Institute. He was hired as their lead computer security technician three years previous. She then wondered if his friendship was an attempt to keep tabs on her for Flora-tech. She found herself feeling a little disappointed at the idea.

But she would not think too much on it, she had lots to do. "Time to shop."

* * *

Isadora returned to her apartment near sunset that evening. She had spent the entire day recreating her image, figuring that it would help to portray herself as someone she really wasn't, effectively hiding her true identity when she left the job… or had to escape. She was hoping for the former. Her chocolate colored hair was now replaced with platinum blonde, streaks of bright red were added to give her an untamed quality; a wild child. She also bought a brand new wardrobe and new makeup. Gone was the elegant vintage look she always favored; now she portrayed the ultimate cyber-hacker stereotype, her clothing still vintage, but wilder, to go along with the dark, heavy eye-makeup.

She also secured a bargaining chip of sorts, which, at that very moment, was resting in a pocket of extra skin that was fused to the roof of her mouth. She hoped she would not have to use it.

Leaving Wallace in the apartment, she walked up the fire escape to wait for Lucius on the roof. It was long after dark when she realized that she was no longer alone. She turned in the direction of her fire escape to see, not Lucius, but a dark figure. He stood precariously on the edge of her rooftop, eyeing her momentarily until he swiftly walked forward.

Isadora had no other option but to counter his movements. As he got closer, she realized who she was looking at. It was the man who took up Batman's mantle after his death.

Nightwing.

Many, like her, had followed his work closely, relieved that even though the Batman was no longer, there was someone left behind to fight the good fight.

She stopped retreating to now face Nightwing in close quarters. Taking in his appearance, she noted that he was a lot smaller than Batman, but also lithe and fit. He did not wear a cape, just a suit. He wore a mask but it only covered his dark eyes and not his entire head. His hair was dark in color, trimmed short.

He spoke, "You are not exactly what I expected."

"I could say the same," she countered. "I hate to be rude but I am waiting for someone."

He grinned. "You are waiting for me. You are Jack Frost?"

Isadora eyed him up and down for a moment, and then continued to look around, as if she expected Lucius to be hiding somewhere.

When she was satisfied that they were alone, she spoke, "Lucius sent you to me?"

"He did. Lucius and I are good friends. He was… concerned with your message and got me involved. I've come to gather any information you have acquired on Bane, and to thank you for your cooperation."

She narrowed her eyes at him. He didn't quite realize how deep she already was. It was time to set him straight.

"Happily. But there has been a… development… that we must discuss." She turned to sit down in her red Adirondack chair, settling in for a long conversation.

"I am all ears," he said, taking a seat on the edge of the rooftop.

Isadora started from the beginning, when she first noticed the ship. She explained in detail how she gained access to the surveillance cameras at the docks, how someone had already looped the footage, and how after she discovered Bane, it was not 24 hours before she was contacted by her fellow hacker with a plea to save his life.

"Do you know what they are planning?" Nightwing asked.

"No. But I will… soon. They are coming for me tomorrow. After they… acquire me, my fate will be in their hands. But I have a plan."

She suddenly stood up and started pacing in front of Nightwing.

"A plan?" he questioned, indulging her.

"Yeah," she said, as if it was obvious and his ability to follow along was now in question. "Ok. What we know about Bane and his motives really isn't a whole hell of a lot. I've told you everything I've gathered and it wasn't much."

"Go on…" he offered.

"So, we get me on the inside. I find out what their up to, gather Intel and whatnot, get the information back to you, and then you take them down."

"That is a very dangerous plan… for you. I can't protect you from the inside."

She looked up at him and gave him a half-smile, feeling suddenly honored that he would want to protect her.

Then, sighing, she added, "They are coming for me anyway. If I run, my friend and his mother will die. I can't… in good conscience… allow that to happen."

It was Nightwing's turn to start pacing, lost in thought, trying to think of every angle.

"How will you let me know if you are in trouble, if you need help?"

She smirked. "I'll get word to Lucius. He and I can communicate easily, and covertly. I will also use him to get you the Intel I can gather." She paused for a moment, deep in thought, and then spoke. "When they release me, when the job is over, or… if I have to escape… I'll need protection, for me and my family."

He nodded. "Of course."

Giving him a bashful smile, she said, "I suppose I should get back inside. I have preparations to make."

Isadora offered Nightwing her hand. He took it, and firmly held it for a moment.

"Good luck, Jack Frost."

She nodded her thanks and made for the fire escape, leaving Nightwing on her roof, staring after her.

* * *

It was early the next morning when Gabriel arrived at her front door. He looked upon her in shock, taking in her new appearance.

"Jeez, Isa. What have you done to yourself?"

She was wearing a grey, chiffon top; the cap sleeves and upper back were neatly slashed, showing hints of skin underneath. She paired the top with a blue and white striped skirt, dotted with a floral print overlay, and worn, studded combat boots.

"It's good to see you too, baby brother." She offered a smile.

Once inside, he picked her up into his arms. He was always so affectionate towards her. He was a gentle giant, his massive size always allowed him to overcome her, picking her up and carrying her around like a doll. He didn't let her down for some time as they hugged.

Gabriel was a very handsome man. He had chocolate brown hair and blue eyes like his sister. He was a big guy, built with muscle. He could look very intimidating until he smiled, and then he was just an oversized, cuddly teddy bear.

Wallace was beyond excited to see his uncle, his tail wagging in greeting.

When Gabriel finally spoke, he was concerned, almost pained with the current situation.

"I know I'm not supposed to ask questions, but… you'll be safe, right? You'll… come back to us?"

It broke her heart to have to put her brother in the position he was in, but she couldn't back down now. So she put a smile on her face and did her best to quell her brother's fears.

"I will come back to you. I promise." She placed her palm to her brother's cheek, imploring him to remain calm. "Trust me."

"I do. I trust you more than anyone, and I love you more than anything."

"I love you too," she said, her eyes beginning to tear.

Isadora stepped back from her brother, wanting to get them on the road. She didn't have much time. She helped her brother secure Wallace's bed, food, and toys into the back of his truck. After helping Wallace into the front passenger seat, she held his face, scratching behind his ears, and kissed him on his forehead. He licked her face in his gentle way, his anxiety showing through.

After securing Wallace, she walked around to the driver's side and hugged her brother again, tightly. He pulled back from her and pointed to her chest, where a scar was hidden, but he knew was there.

"Be gentle with it, Isa. It's fragile. Never forget that."

She reached to hold the side of his face, caressing his cheek with her thumb. Giving him a determined nod, she declared, "I'll see you again."

"Be safe." It was all her brother could say before he climbed into the driver's seat, started the truck, and drove away.

Isadora slowly walked back to the stairs leading to her apartment, waving to her landlord on the way. She had met with him that morning, paying six months of rent up front, saying that she was going to be backpacking in Europe. He agreed to tend to her garden.

Once inside her apartment, she had nothing else to do but wait to be found. If Fonzarelli was on schedule, it would be soon. She figured she had until that evening, for they would not want to retrieve her in broad daylight. It left her with just enough time to set up silent alarms and a few security cameras inside and at the entrance and windows to her apartment. She would not be taken off guard; she would know when they were coming for her.

Long after sunset, there was a ping from her laptop. It was a private encoded message from Fonzarelli. With trepidation, she opened it.

**Fonzie: They're coming.**


	4. Chapter Three

Isadora was watching when they arrived at the docks minutes after receiving her encoded message from Fronzarelli. She was prepared, or as prepared as she could be.

She did not shut down her laptop until the silent alarms were tripped, warning her of their arrival. Standing up from her desk, she gathered up her laptop and placed it with her bags that she had already piled in the middle of the room. She faced the door, silent… stoic… waiting.

_3… 2… 1…_

She congratulated herself internally for not flinching as they busted down her door, several men entering the apartment and pointing guns in her direction. They did not bother to knock. She waited still.

Bane strolled inside then, casually, taking in the scene before him.

A rather hefty man followed Bane inside. Fonzarelli. He looked different from the pictures she found of him, more warn down, frazzled. It was the red hair, blue eyes and goatee that ultimately gave him away. He was obviously not of military stock.

"Search it," Bane said, simply.

One of the armed men remained behind, pointing his gun at her. Isadora chose not to acknowledge him, preferring to keep her eye on Bane. She forced herself to breathe deeply and not show any fear.

Bane looked at the woman standing before him, taking in her appearance from head to toe, slowly coming to the realization that the small girl in front of him was most likely the Jack Frost they were looking for.

The armed men finished their search and returned to the main area of the apartment to surround her again.

"She is the only one here," one of the men spoke.

Bane's eyes flashed with amusement. "Jack Frost, I presume?"

She lifted her chin even higher, not taking her eyes off Bane. "Yes."

Bane inched closer to her, his eyes moving up and down her form again, suddenly pleased with this new development.

"Intriguing," he stated. "Such world-renowned talents, talents that some would even label… dangerous… and all wrapped up in a _lovely_ little package." He paused and then continued. "You are not surprised to see us."

"Your movements have not gone unnoticed. I have been tracking you since your ship arrived." She let that sink in, before adding, "I do hope you wanted to be found, given your lax, and frankly, pitiful excuse for security."

Bane turned to the man standing behind him, the fellow hacker who brought them to her, and the one solely responsible for keeping their operation off the grid. The man looked like a kicked puppy, and yet simultaneously flabbergasted that the famous hacker they had come to retrieve was a woman.

She continued, casually. "I can only assume that the people of Gotham City have not caught on because they have no reason to look for a dead man."

Bane narrowed his eyes at her.

Isadora was unrelenting. "Don't worry, I have no ambitions to bring attention to your operation. I know why you are here."

"Do you?" Bane stepped closer, quirking an eyebrow.

"You have a job for me. And I will agree to do it… for a price," she added.

_'Ah, greed…' _Bane thought. Hoping to gain some insight into the strange woman standing before him, Bane was interested to see what her price would be. Was greed her main directive, like so many others?

"Name it," he challenged.

"The price is your word, that while in your employ I will be provided with the essentials… sufficient lodging, food, protection… and neither you, nor your men, will touch me. When you no longer have use of me, you will set me free, alive and unharmed."

Bane faltered for a brief moment. He did not expect her price to be so… simple. She was only concerned with self-preservation. He could respect that. He decided to play with her a little bit.

"My word means little," he said, coyly.

Isadora smiled, and once again, Bane staggered internally.

She decided to go for a little flirtation. "Oh I doubt that. You seem like a very honorable terrorist."

In response, Bane opted for fear.

"And why would I agree to your price when I could just as easily force you?"

Smirking at his attempt, she wasn't buying it. It was time to use the bargaining chip.

"I have considered that, of course."

Opening her mouth slightly and using her tongue with skilled technique, she released the small glass cyanide capsule that she had hidden in the pocket of skin fused to the roof of her mouth. She held it between her teeth for a moment, making sure the men surrounding her acknowledged its presence, before pulling it back into her mouth and into the effective position.

"All I have to do is bite down," she stated.

Bane laughed. He was delighted by her act of defiance and captivated by the adept workings of her tongue. Even some of Bane's men, those who were closest to him, laughed along with him.

"You are not afraid to die?"

With immediate assurance, she answered, "No."

Bane smiled beneath his mask, an expression she could clearly see in his eyes.

"Agreed. Bring her."

Isadora gathered her belongings that were at her feet, effectively declining the attempts of some of Bane's men who offered assistance. She walked towards the door as far as she could; Bane was still blocking the exit. After a brief standoff, she and Bane eyeing each other one more time, Bane stepped aside.

"Your new home awaits… Jack Frost," he said, extending his hand out in a gesture for her to exit before him. 

* * *

Two black SUV's were waiting for them on the street below. Isadora was led to the front vehicle, the back-right passenger door was opened for her and she threw her bags inside before hopping in. Eli Horowitz was escorted to the other side of the vehicle to sit beside her. Bane sat up front with the driver, the remaining armed men, five total, took the SUV at the rear of their small convoy.

The ride was quiet, she noted. There was no sound to disturb the silence. Isadora stared at the back of Bane's head, pondering his mask. After his supposed death, she had read many articles on Bane's mask and its probable use. All first-hand accounts spoke of the mask providing a never-ending supply of medicinal gases that he inhaled. The reason for such gases, she was unsure. Perhaps he was a drug addict and the constant high drove him mad with evil schemes. Or maybe the gases were what kept him alive, like oxygen; without them, he would slowly suffocate.

She wondered if the mask's use had been greatly exaggerated. Perhaps… it was just a mask.

"_You're_ Jack Frost?" Eli suddenly spoke, almost accusing.

Tearing herself away from her thoughts, she looked over to Eli and gave him a genuine smile. "And you are Eli Horowitz."

"You know my name?" he asked, surprised.

"You track me, I track you. All's fair… Fonzie." She quirked an eyebrow at him.

"… And you're a woman."

She actually laughed at him then. "How very astute of you."

"I mean…" he started, then continued in a whisper. "Jesus, Frost. The things I've said to you, thinking you were a guy. You must think I'm a pervert."

Isadora did not bother sharing his whispered tone. She laughed, "You _are _a pervert."

Eli wasn't sure if he should laugh as well, but he was suddenly more comfortable with her in this teasing manner. "What else do you know about me?" he asked.

She turned away from him then, giving him a sideways glance. "I know you work for Flora-tech. Keeping your enemies closer, were you? Tsk tsk. I thought we were friends?" she said, half teasing him and half serious in her accusation.

"We are friends. It is merely a coincidence that I work for them. The fact is; I have been following your hacking exploits long before I became employed there. Working there, just gave me better insight to your skill, and you have surpassed all of my expectations. Truthfully, Frost… I'm absolutely floored. You infiltrated Flora-tech almost ten years ago! You must have been just a teenager! How old were you then?"

She shrugged and looked down at her lap. "Fifteen," she stated.

Bane took great interest in their conversation from the front seat. He wanted to know more about her, what her motives were. She fascinated him immensely with her banter. He listened at a distance, never turning in his seat or acknowledging that he heard anything that was being said behind him.

"My God…" Eli continued. "Your IQ score must be in the 160s."

"172." She corrected him in a distracted manner, no longer paying much attention as she stared out the window at the approaching dock, trying to get a better view.

Eli just stared at her, his jaw hanging low.

Isadora felt nervous again. Soon she would be trapped on that boat with a known terrorist and his gang of ruffians. She tried to compose herself as best she could. It was best to remain indifferent. If they believed her indifferent, she could remain a tool for their game, and not an expendable pawn. She looked at her watch; it was just after 11:00 P.M.

Their SUV pulled up to the dock and stopped. Bane got out first and walked back to her door, opening it for her and silently beckoning her to get out. She gathered her bags and hopped down, waiting patiently beside the vehicle while everyone gathered. Once again, Bane gestured for her to walk ahead of him. She did so without question or hesitation, following Eli and the two, armed men that led the way. She glanced behind her as she walked; observing that another set of armed men followed them, and the two men who remained drove the SUV's away from the docks.

She wondered if they would have a long walk back.

The party reached the landing craft at the end of the dock. Isadora waited for her turn to jump in. She followed Eli, watching as he carefully lowered himself into the boat and wondered how it was that he had lasted so long with an entire ship full of mercenaries. Once he was firmly on his feet, she threw her bags in behind him and jumped in, landing with precision and not stumbling even a little bit. She picked up her belongings and swiftly moved out of the way for Bane and the rest of his men to jump in the boat.

Holding on to the closest sturdy surface, she braced herself as the engine to the boat roared to life and they moved away from the dock.

"What about the other two?" she asked no one in particular, trying her voice over the noise of the boat.

Eli stood near her. "They stay on shore, with the vehicles," he yelled.

"Ah," she said with a nod.

It didn't take long to get to the ship. Upon reaching it, Isadora could only gape at the utter size of the ship before her. It was massive, so much larger in person than what it looked like from the roof of her apartment. They approached the back of the ship, the hull already open and the interior taking on water. She watched, engrossed in the process.

Eli, ever the helpful tour guide, began to explain the process; yelling over the noise of the boat engine and the sound of the water flooding the large cavern at the back of the ship. "It's called a well deck, it floods to allow the landing craft to enter and exit the ship."

She noticed the well deck was lit in a muted green light, allowing just enough visibility in the dark, and it was almost full with shipping containers of every size, stacked and lined up neatly. Along the perimeter, at the height of the large space, there were catwalks allowing access to the area while the well deck was flooded. The catwalks were teeming with armed men, awaiting their arrival.

Isadora leaned into Eli. "How do the shipping containers stay put while the area is flooded? Won't they just… float away?"

He pointed, bringing her attention to a stack of shipping containers. "There are mooring lines that attach the containers to the floor, holding them in place so they don't wash out to sea."

As the water descended, she noted that the landing craft was positioned over a docking rack of sorts, keeping the boat in a stable position within the well deck. Mooring lines were thrown down from the catwalks on both sides, securing the boat in place. When the hull was secure and the water drained, their party began to filter out of the landing craft.

Eli let Isadora go before him this time. He watched as she tossed her bags over the side and then vaulted herself over the edge with ease, landing on her feet. He couldn't help but notice how her skirt flipped up a bit on her descent. It took Eli a little longer to exit the boat.

Isadora took her time observing her surroundings. She looked over the large crew of mercenaries, wondering how many more men were elsewhere in the ship. They, in turn, looked her over as well. She felt surrounded; a rabbit in the midst of a pack of wolves.

_'Be indifferent,' _she reminded herself internally.

"Follow me." Bane stood right next to her, his voice booming; startling her. Without a reply, he walked off, leading the way.

Eli and Isadora followed with haste. At their heels was a man armed with an assault rifle.

Bane led them first to 'Radio.' It was the ADP (Automatic Data Processing) room for the ship. It housed the servers, routers, and local area network. It appeared that it was also the base of operations for Eli's work. There were a few computer stations set up on a large table, and on an opposite table were several security monitors watching over the entire ship and the docks. On one wall, there was a large white board filled with state diagrams describing different concepts and ways of attacking a network. Next to each diagram, in red marker, was the word 'FAIL'. She could already see Eli's mistakes, but they could get into that later.

There was a very tall black man watching the security monitors. His complexion was beautiful in a way that she had never encountered personally; like rich, dark coffee. When he looked up, his light brown eyes smiled at her. He introduced himself as Atticus. His accent was thick, perhaps originating from the southern regions of Africa.

"This is where you will work," Bane said in his booming mechanical voice.

"Yes, I set up a desk for you, Frost." Eli pointed to an empty desk next to his workspace. "I also have a dossier prepared for you," he said as he handed her a thick file folder.

She took the folder and opened it immediately, already excited at the prospect of a new puzzle.

"It has all of the research I have done so far… software we will need, vulnerabilities that I have found, surveillance of the facility, employee histories, and ideas of what malware to create that will suit our purpose. It should give you a sufficient platform to work from," Eli continued.

"Your work starts in the morning," Bane interrupted while walking towards the door. "I will show you to your living quarters." Bane stopped next to the doorway and waited for Isadora to follow him.

This was not up for discussion apparently, so she took the file folder and followed Bane out, nodding to Eli as she passed him. She hoped to get a head start on her work before the next day. They walked for several minutes, through a maze of hallways, stairwells, and twists and turns, all dimly lit in a ominous red lighting, before they finally arrived at her living quarters. Bane opened the door and stood aside for Isadora to enter. The room was not large by any means and brightly lit with fluorescents. There were two beds, one stacked over the other, a desk and chair, a cabinet and drawers built into the opposite wall, and a private bathroom with a toilet and shower.

She was suddenly concerned that she would be bunking with a roommate. "Will I be… sharing this room?" she asked calmly, looking to Bane.

He looked at her for a moment, his eyes unwavering. "No," he said. "I thought it appropriate that you had private living quarters."

Isadora looked around the room again before responding. She placed her bags on the lower bunk and turned to face Bane. "Thank you," she said, holding her head high.

Bane nodded; it was so slight, she barely noticed it. She then waited, patiently, unmoving, for Bane to exit her room. After a few moments, she clasped her hands in front of her and settled into a wider stance, an action she adapted whenever she was losing patience. Bane just stood there in the doorway, staring at her.

The armed man that followed them was standing outside, like he was guarding the door. She guessed that was exactly what he was doing. On the trek to get to her room, she was able to get a good look at him, observing the burn scars on his neck under his left ear, and how they spread down to his lower arms which were the only other areas of his body that were uncovered. She wondered how the scars got there.

"What is your name?" Bane finally spoke, pulling her away from her thoughts.

Isadora furrowed her brow. "You know my name," she said, simply.

"Your true name," he clarified.

She narrowed her eyes at him, shaking her head as she said, "My true name is none of your concern."

Bane walked toward her then, towering over her as she looked up at him, her chin held high. She heard him softly huff a laugh behind his mask. "One day, you will tell me."

"Doubtful," she said, her tone unruly.

"I do have the means to find out," he said as his eyes wandered down her form.

She smiled. "Good luck with that."

He seemed amused as he turned and began walking towards the door. "I do love a challenge," he said, before closing the door behind him.

Isadora's whole body seemed to exhale at his departure. After making sure her door was locked and secure, she took Eli's dossier, jumped up onto the top bunk and began to go through his notes. She sat up on the bed, one of her legs hanging over the side, absentmindedly swinging, as she casually flipped through the pages of the file lying on the bed in front of her. Suddenly, she froze her movements. Picking up one of the pages, she brought it closer to her face, scrutinizing every word and image. She knew the network schematics on the page by heart. Now it all became clear. The puzzle she had been brought in to solve, was a puzzle she had already conquered.

They wanted her to hack the Flora-tech Institute… again.


	5. Chapter Four

It was a little before 6:00 A.M. when Isadora awoke that next morning. She had hardly slept at all the night before, anxiety caused her to toss and turn. After she had showered, she dressed in skinny jeans, her studded combat boots, and an obligatory gaming t-shirt displaying the word 'PWND!' across her chest. After struggling to paint on a copious amount of dark eye makeup, her disguise was complete. She then took her laptop and the file folder Eli had given her and made for the door. She hoped she could find her way back to Radio without getting lost.

When she opened the door, she saw the man who stood guard outside her room the night before. He turned and addressed her.

"Ma'am," he nodded. "I am to escort you to the Crew's Mess before you are to report to Radio. Will you follow me?"

His pleasant manner was something she did not expect. She smiled at him. "Lead the way," she said, gesturing for him to go.

The hallways were brightly lit during daylight hours, she noted, the dim red glow giving way to fluorescent lighting like she had in her room. She followed her guide closely as he explained certain areas of the ship as they passed. The hallway that her room resided in had only a few staterooms, like hers, and the only other occupants in that hallway were Eli Horowitz and the very man who was guiding her to Crew's Mess. He pointed out hallways that led to the Berthing areas of the ship, where the crew slept. He reiterated that she was not to venture into those areas alone. He showed her the Public Heads, or Bathrooms, indicating that one was conveniently located near Radio where she would be working. He also mentioned that the ship was under constant video surveillance, gesturing toward several cameras as he guided her along. Lastly, he explained that there were three commanding officers, Bane included, which would oversee the operations of the ship. One of them would always be on duty.

Ending her tour at the Crew's Mess, or Cafeteria, her guide walked her through the food line before joining her at one of the tables to eat their breakfast. The food selection was basic. She imagined there was a strong military influence to designing their meals. Trays of scrambled eggs, meats, and breads were offered along with dull, grain cereals and milk. The coffee flowed in abundance, and for that she was grateful.

Crew's Mess was full of armed men, all of them watching her with much interest. She paid them no mind, ignoring how quiet the room had become after she walked in.

"Mealtimes are at 07:00, 12:00, and 17:00 hours. There are also 'mid-rats', or midnight rations at 24:00 hours." He continued, "Although I suggest that you not move about the ship during those hours, at least not without an escort."

Isadora had her head leaning over her plate of food as she took a bite of the scrambled eggs. After she swallowed, she spoke, "Are you my designated escort while I'm here?"

"I am," he said, leaning over his own plate of food. "But you will not need one at all times. You will be relegated to a few select areas; your stateroom, Crew's Mess, and Radio. Other areas of the ship are available to you, but you must have an escort. Do _not _go walking about the ship by yourself." He emphasized this by pointing his finger at her.

She nodded in agreement. "So what do I call you?"

"Quincy," he said.

She offered her hand to him over the table. He hesitated, and then shook it. "Jack Frost," she introduced herself.

Quincy gave a nod before returning to his breakfast.

They ate in silence for a few minutes until a large body slid into the seat next to hers. "Good morning, Frost. How was your first night on board?" Eli said cheerfully, biting into a piece of toast.

She turned to Eli and leaned back in her seat, holding her cup of coffee. "It… met my expectations, I suppose. Thank you."

"I'm glad to hear it. We have a lot to cover today, getting you up to speed and all." Eli spoke with his mouth full, not even bothering to cover his mouth with a free hand.

Isadora looked back at her empty plate to ignore the view. "So, Fonzie, if you are here, what happened with your job at Flora-tech?" She was curious as to how he got involved and hoped that discussing his part as casually as possible would answer some of her questions. Eli did not disappoint.

"I've been on 'Family Sick Leave'," he began, using air quotes. "Flora-tech believes my mother is very ill, so I've been 'working from home' while I take care of her. It allows me to still have access to the net-," he stopped, abruptly.

She watched him struggle not to say too much, not to divulge insider information to what they would be hacking. He just didn't realize that she already knew more than he thought she did.

"The network?" she finished for him. "Flora-tech's network. That _is_ what we are hacking into, isn't it?"

Eli looked around, nervously, to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation. "Ok, firstly… SHHHHH! We don't talk about the job outside of Radio. Secondly… how did you know?" Eli accused, eyeing her skeptically.

"Your dossier," she said, simply. Leaning into him, she spoke in a low voice, tapping a finger to her temple, "I have that network mapped by memory. It's pathetic that in the ten years since I first hacked in, they haven't changed a damn thing to protect themselves from someone like me attacking them again."

Eli's eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. Would he ever _not_ be caught off guard around her?

"Where is your mother?" she inquired, her tone suddenly serious. "You said they were holding her. Is she here on the ship?"

Eli looked very uncomfortable as he answered, his eyes swiftly looking towards Quincy before resting back at his plate. "No, she thinks I'm working out of state on some project for Flora-tech. They uh…" he began, shifting his eyes up to Quincy again, "control her fate, holding her over me... but they do not physically have her."

Isadora could tell how uncomfortable Eli was with this topic, especially around Quincy, who had not met Eli's fleeting stare but was obviously listening to every word Eli said.

"Well," she concluded, merrily, "We better get a move on then. I'll just go fill up my coffee cup and we can head out." She stood up from the table when Eli interrupted her.

"There's fresh coffee in Radio. I keep a pot going at all times," he offered.

"I'm sure I will partake in there as well," she said with a wink and walked to the large coffee dispensers near the food line.

Eli wasn't the only man eyeing her closely as she walked the length of the room. Isadora was oblivious to this, of course, blissfully unaware of her impact on the opposite sex. Though it may not seem so, honest social interactions took practice for her. Sure, she could play any part in order to survive, but letting others see her true self was a struggle.

After filling her coffee cup, she balanced it with both hands as she walked back to the table, putting it down momentarily while she gathered her things. "Are we ready?"

* * *

Bane stood in Radio, watching the three figures sitting together in the mess hall through the security monitors over Atticus' shoulder. He was losing his patience. Jack Frost needed to be debriefed before she could start her work. He hoped her involvement would pay off and not further waste his time.

It wasn't long before the two hackers walked in followed closely by Quincy. Bane observed the woman as she placed her laptop and file folder on her desk and sat down. She did not acknowledge Bane, which was to be expected, as most of the crew did not acknowledge Bane unless he addressed them… but Bane found that he enjoyed the defiant look she gave him the previous day, and wanted to see it again.

After Quincy shut the door to the room, Bane said, "Mr. Horowitz, if you would begin."

Eli approached Isadora and began his presentation, placing in front of her page after page of notes, diagrams, theories, and anything and everything he had gathered to make their attack, most of which she had already seen in her own dossier the night before. The target was the Flora-tech Institute. That, she already knew. It was what they wanted inside the Flora-tech Institute that was the mystery.

Eli explained. "Several years ago, Flora-tech commissioned a Dr. Andrew Lucas to create a virus that they could sell on the open market." Eli picked through his file and began placing photographs on Isadora's desk. "It is a bastardized and, frankly, even more horrific version of the Ebola virus. He named it VEX."

Isadora viewed the men in the pictures before her. They looked to be test subjects, possibly prisoners from Blackgate if she read their jumpsuits correctly. The men in the pictures were bleeding from every orifice. They looked to be screaming in agony, clawing at their already bleeding eyes. She felt Bane's eyes on her, but she refused to look up at him.

Bane noted that it took her awhile to pull herself away from the gruesome predicament of the Blackgate prisoners. Her stoic reaction was interesting to him. She showed no signs of fear or panic, or even wariness. Her face was a blank mask. He could not decide if this disappointed him or not.

"Flora-tech still has full possession of the virus," Eli continued. "It is kept on the Flora-tech premises and stored in this device." He placed what appeared to be a rough blueprint of some sort of storage container before her. "The device is a 10-foot, cube-shaped unit laboratory. The virus was developed inside the device and that is where it will remain until ready for use. The device is self-sustaining, has its own security network, and can be transported at a moment's notice. Here…" he said, pointing to an area on the blueprint, "…is the device's most notable feature. It is built with a self-destruct mechanism."

Bane watched as Jack Frost took in the information; knowing that she was beginning to understand her purpose. He continued to watch as she held the blueprint in her hands, tracing its lines with a finger, no doubt memorizing the device and planning ways to infiltrate it. Her hands were small, especially compared to his. As he observed her, unwanted thoughts about how delicate her touch must be entered his mind.

"The self-destruct mechanism was put in place to keep the virus contained in the unlikely event that the device was compromised. If the device were to say… be forced open… the self-destruct mechanism would set to detonate in three minutes, vaporizing the virus within and everything in a one-mile radius surrounding it." Eli sat down at his desk then, waiting for her to speak.

Isadora pushed back from the desk and stood. "So, let me get this straight," she began as she started pacing the room. "Flora-tech commissioned the good doctor to create a virus that could wipe out the planet... on purpose… and they plan to sell it as a biological weapon to the highest bidder?" Her tone was incredulous as she looked over at Eli for confirmation.

"... Yes," Eli shrugged.

She sat back down in her chair, scooting herself closer to Eli, and then resting her elbow on his desk while holding her chin in her palm as she stared him down. They almost looked like gossiping girlfriends from an outside perspective.

"And the best he could come up with for a name was VEX?" she said, full of sarcasm.

"I know, right?" Eli laughed.

"I mean, why not go all out and name it 'The Apocalypse Virus'..." she removed her chin from her palm and started waving her hand around, "… or 'The-End-Is-Near Virus'... or the 'Bend-Over-And-Take-It-Because-We're-All-_Fucked_ Virus'!" she lightly backhanded Eli's arm.

Bane watched her, humored by her reaction.

"Oh!" Eli interrupted and held up a finger with a sudden thought. "I think 'The Apocalypse Virus' was already taken," he said, trying to be helpful.

"Of _course_ it was," she said, rolling her eyes. She took a deep breath. "Okay… so…" she began, "You want to hack into Flora-tech and then, what? Compromise the device so it blows up?" She looked at each person in the room, hoping they would confirm her idea, but knowing she was about to be disappointed.

Bane slowly walked towards her as he spoke, "Unlike the Ebola Virus that will take days to incubate… VEX, upon incubation, begins to attack internal tissues immediately, corroding them, causing instantaneous hemorrhaging. Infection by skin-on-skin contact is a given, but not the most efficient way to spread the virus. Because the host will surely die within hours of the first symptoms, it is more effective to facilitate oral ingestion of the virus... in the water, in the air." He paused to let her contemplate that, and then continued. "Dr. Lucas constructed a delivery method via long-range missile that if detonated above a targeted area, would release the virus in a cloud of gas."

"How much did he make?" she asked, looking down at the photos before her.

"If used within a densely populated area, enough to take out millions of people," Bane stated.

"Like... the population of Gotham City?" she asked, picking up a picture of one of the test subjects again, unable to look away from the horror of it.

She did not notice Bane close the distance to reach her. He stood just to her left, looking over her shoulder as she viewed the picture in her hands. He could smell her scent through his mask as he leaned in just behind her ear. She smelled of citrus and figs, her scent pleasing to him.

He then spoke in a soft tone. "Yes."

Her eyes closed when he spoke, uncomfortable with his proximity. Now that her worst fear was confirmed, she needed a straight answer. Opening her eyes, she asked, "So what is my part in all of this?"

Bane tilted his head to the side in order to get a better look at her face before he spoke. "We are going to steal the device. And you... dear girl... are going to open it for us."

Isadora turned her head and looked directly at Bane as a confirmation of her understanding. His face was mere inches away from hers.

_'There it is…"_ he thought to himself. _'…The look of defiance._' His eyes flashed at her before he stepped away, moving back across the room as he continued to look at her, delighted that she also did not turn from his gaze.

After a minute or so, she looked back at her desk. At that moment, she was rather incensed with the idea that the Flora-tech Institute could be so stupid as to create a virus for such a purpose. What worried her, given her knowledge of their security protocols, and the fact that they had done nothing to update them in the 10 years since she first infiltrated their, laughably vulnerable, network, was that this deadly virus was so readily accessible to those in the world who were… less than honorable. Present company included, apparently.

The room was quiet for several moments before she spoke again, absentmindedly gathering all of the scattered papers on her desk and shuffling them into a neat stack so she could put them in her file folder and out of sight. "I'm going to be so pissed if this turns out to be as easy as I think it's going to be," she said, more to herself than to the others in the room.

* * *

A few hours and several cups of coffee later, Isadora had successfully explained to Eli the flaws in his state diagrams up on the white board. After pointing out each mistake, she erased the diagram from the board with a flourish, causing Eli to huff in exasperation each time.

"Now we have a clean slate to work from," she said, simply.

"What do you mean?" Eli exclaimed, gesturing towards the board. "Any one of those ideas were fine after you tweaked them."

"Yes, they were," she placated him. "But they were not good enough. We are not _just_ hacking into Flora-tech now, we… I… already did that. Instead, we are trying to hack a figurative shit-storm. Come on, Fonzie… where is your imagination? You are all theory and no practice. You are going to have to be a little more daring."

Isadora fell into her chair and put her feet up on her desk while she waited for Eli's tantrum to subside. She rocked in her chair; her head tilted to the side as she watched Eli rub his eyes and take a deep breath.

"Fine." Eli looked at his watch. "How about you and I discuss my need to be a little more daring over lunch?"

She pulled her feet off the desk in front of her and scooted in closer to her laptop. "I'm not hungry," she said as she clicked away at her keyboard. "You go on ahead, I'm going to check the quality of your TOR program. We wouldn't want anyone to be able to track our movements."

"I _do_ know how to create an effective TOR, Frost." Eli became defensive.

She smirked, "You won't mind if I check, do you? Professional courtesy and all?"

"Whatever floats your boat, Frost," he grumbled as he walked out of the room.

Atticus, who had been listening in from his station across the room, chuckled from behind her. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, and though he never took his eyes off the monitors in front of him, he addressed her. "That man," he said, shaking his head, "Has no chance."

Isadora pulled her laptop into her lap and put her feet back up on her desk. "Just keeping him on his toes. My standards for performance are high," she said with a shrug, as if that explained everything.

Atticus laughed again.

* * *

By the end of that first day, Isadora and Eli had a fairly developed blueprint of their own to map out their attack. Eli could no longer argue with her theories and work ethic and had no choice but to let her lead. Any animosity he might have felt at her high-handed way of taking control was replaced with the utter excitement of witnessing the inner workings of her brain. She introduced him to ideas and concepts that he never would have imagined.

Isadora found herself caught up in the excitement of solving a new puzzle, almost forgetting that she was playing a key role in helping a madman kill millions of people. She _almost_ forgot. It was when she was gathering her things to leave Radio and meet Eli for dinner in the mess hall that she was abruptly reminded. All of the papers and photographs from Eli's presentation that morning, the evidence of her supposed betrayal to the people of Gotham City, slipped out of her file folder through her fingers and landed with a spectacular splash on the floor.

As she knelt down to gather the multitude of pages, the face of one of the Blackgate prisoners stared up at her. She stopped what she was doing; letting all of the pages she had just picked up fall to the floor again. Kneeling on the ground, she stared at the picture before her. It wasn't the blood that stopped her, although that would cause anyone to pause in horror. No, it was the tattoo on the man's chest, over his heart. It was a portrait of a baby girl, perhaps no older than three years old. The girl was important to this man. Perhaps she was his daughter. Whoever she was, this man loved her. And no matter what he had done to land him in Blackgate, he had a family somewhere that would suffer the same fate, if she didn't stop it.

Isadora suddenly felt a wave of nausea hit her. She couldn't breathe, couldn't see through the haze that altered her vision. Stumbling back onto her ass, she practically threw herself away from the photograph, kicking her legs in an attempt to get away.

"Jack Frost!" a stern voice said, pulling her back to reality.

She gasped in realization that someone was kneeling before her. It took her a moment to focus on him. When she finally did, she saw Quincy there, looking at her with questioning eyes.

"Frost," he said, softly now. "Are you alright?"

Isadora shot up from the floor and stood against the wall, looking from Quincy to the papers on the floor and back to him again.

"I'm fine!" she said, abruptly. She tried to steady her breathing. "I think I'll just… turn in for the night."

She practically ran from the room, not even stopping to pick up the file that was still scattered on the floor. Quincy could do nothing more than try and keep up as he escorted her back to her quarters.

* * *

Bane entered Radio not an hour later with Quincy in tow. He viewed the scattered mess of pages on the floor with a quirk of an eyebrow. "Speak," he said, addressing Atticus.

Quincy took Atticus' place at the security monitors so he could stand and respond to Bane.

Atticus stood, holding his hands behind his back as he spoke. "I am not sure what came over the girl. As she left, she dropped the file on the floor, and when she went to pick it up, she stumbled back as if she found a snake poised to strike. Quincy arrived then, calling her name many times until she came back from wherever she was. Then she ran," he shrugged.

Bane knelt down to the pages on the floor. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, only what had been presented to her that morning. He picked up a picture of one of the test subjects, noting the amount of blood and how it pooled along his torso, framing the many tattoos he had on his chest. He found nothing that he thought would have suddenly frightened her.

"Sir," Quincy called out. "You should see this."

Bane casually walked over to the security monitors where Quincy was leaning in to get a better look at whatever it was that caught his eye.

Quincy pointed to one of the screens. What they saw was the view of the hallway where Jack Frost's room resided. The hallway was empty but for a single figure, standing against the wall, and staring blankly at the wall opposite.

Jack Frost.

They watched as she turned and began walking down the hallway. She held a bottle of some unknown substance in one hand. They followed her as she left one camera view and showed up in another.

"It looks like she going up on deck," Quincy said.

Irritation suddenly raged inside Bane. He had agreed to her terms of employment, accommodated her with sufficient lodging, food, and protection… all in accordance with their deal. Now she went wandering about, alone, without her assigned escort. Not that anything serious would happen to her. His men were well aware of the new addition to their crew, and that under no circumstances was anyone to touch her. He wondered what exactly she was up to. Was she a spy, betraying him and their cause? One thing was certain; he was going to find out.

"It appears that Jack Frost needs a reminder of the rules while she is aboard this ship," Bane said in a subtly hostile tone.

Quincy stood up. "I will find her."

"No." Bane turned and walked towards the door. He held his hands at his sides, his fingers dancing in agitation.

Atticus and Quincy stood there watching Bane as he walked away, both inwardly concerned for the fate of the young woman, though neither one would ever voice that concern out loud.

"Clean this up," Bane demanded as he walked out the door and turned the corner.


	6. Chapter Five

Isadora was well on her way to being fully inebriated when she left her room. She needed air. Holding the neck of her favorite bottle of whiskey in one hand, she carefully made her way up on deck. The deck was empty; most of the crew still in the mess hall eating dinner. Except for a cleared landing area, the deck was full of storage containers, just like the well deck, all strategically placed in order to hide the crew's movements from prying eyes on shore.

She intended to utilize the storage containers in the same fashion, settling into an area between the edge of the deck and a storage container the size of a train-car. She was out of view and secluded, sitting with her legs crossed and her back to the storage container as she looked up at the beautiful evening sky, sunset quickly approaching.

Taking a swig from the bottle of whiskey, she congratulated herself on thinking to bring the bottle in the first place, somehow knowing that she might need a stiff drink during the job. How right she was.

"The lack of concern for your own wellbeing is curious," Bane said, leaning against the far edge of the storage container, as if their meeting in this spot were the most casual of occurrences. "Is this a common practice for you?"

Isadora didn't look at him, choosing instead to keep her eyes on the opposite shore. "No. But sometimes," she began, taking another swig of whiskey and briefly closing her eyes at the burn in her throat, "a girl needs a little release."

The irritation that Bane felt in having to track her down when she wasn't where she should have been subsided a little. He had come to a sudden realization that the woman before him may have been more affected by the task set forth for her than she portrayed earlier that day. Perhaps his plan for revenge against Gotham City did not sit so well after all.

Instead, he felt irritation at the fact that he had addressed her and she refused to look upon him.

Bane decided to use her current state to his advantage, hoping to gain additional insight as to the content of this woman's character. Slowly, he walked towards her, his steps casual like he was out for an evening stroll. He stopped right next to her and then sat down, something that he would _never_ do with his men. As he leaned his back against the storage container, his legs stretched out before him, he observed the fact that she didn't flinch or try to move away from him in fear. It was almost as if he wasn't even there. Either she was brave, or she was intoxicated enough to feel so. Bane wondered why he'd rather she not be frightened of him, intoxicated or not.

"You are uneasy with the nature of your task," he stated. "Is it your screaming conscience that you are currently trying to drown in a bottle of alcohol? Is that why you ran?"

He was mocking her, she realized.

"No."

"Do not lie to me," he warned. "I will know." When she didn't answer, he continued.

"Is that why you ran?"

"Yes."

"Yes," he said with derision. "All of those innocent lives about to be snuffed out. You carry that weight on your shoulders already, don't you... you feel their blood on your hands as we speak?"

She did not answer him.

"They are not as innocent as they seem, Jack Frost." He spoke to her gently, as if he were speaking to a child. "Gotham City is evil and corrupt, and they all deserve to burn."

"Said the evil spider that sat down beside her," she said, amused with herself as she took another drink.

He laughed. It was a hearty laugh, practically startling her. He was patronizing her and she didn't like it.

"You failed to destroy Gotham the first time," she bit out. "How is this time any different?"

"The Batman is dead," he said, simply.

It was true; the Batman was dead. Gotham City was vulnerable without him. And although she hated to admit it, she wasn't entirely sure that Nightwing could succeed in taking on the masked terrorist sitting beside her. But she would find it within herself to help, at least to try and sabotage him. That was why she allowed herself to be taken. She had skills; she just needed to find a way to use them against him.

"I am curious," he began, "Why did you not ask for money when we came for you?"

Isadora continued to look forward, though not at anything in particular. "I am not ignorant to your game. Asking for money would only ensure my demise in the end, like all of your other game pieces. Your word," she said, the whiskey bottle in hand as she pointed her finger at nothing, "is far more valuable than money."

"How do you know that I won't break my word?" Bane said with a sideways glance.

"Like I said before, you are an honorable terrorist. Your word is your bond," she shrugged. "Something that your _minions_ would never understand or think to utilize."

Bane almost laughed at her logic. She wasn't entirely incorrect.

He turned his head to look at her fully. "Why do you call me that; an honorable terrorist? Why not just, honorable man?"

"You are not a man," she said, simply. "You are a monster. Terrorist just seemed a much kinder, and yet accurate, term."

They were both silent for a moment before she continued.

Taking another swig of the bottle, she added, "Besides, Fonzie is my friend and I have agreed to help him. So I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't off him when this is all said and done."

He scoffed. "Your friend. Mr. Horowitz is no more your friend than my men are mine. I may instill loyalty in them as their leader, but they are all expendable."

Her brows furrowed at his words, she did not agree with his statement.

"Have you forgotten that it was your _friend_ that led us to you? He put you in the path of a terrorist in order to save himself from my wrath. He is of little use to me, but I have spared his life... for now... so that he may be of assistance to you. As his leader, you instill loyalty in him, and like my men, he isn't any less expendable." He huffed a laugh and continued, "No. I make no promises to spare his life in the end."

Isadora gave him a sideways glance that only reached the area around his knees.

"Perhaps you should have stipulated his survival in the price of your employment?"

He was mocking her again. She had made a terrible mistake in not asking for the safety of Eli and his mother, though she wondered if it even mattered now. The virus would surely kill them all anyway, if Bane's plan was allowed to come to fruition.

"You have no friends on this ship," he said, pulling her from her thoughts. "You would do well to remember that."

She still wouldn't look at him, something he was beginning to find infuriating. He didn't need her to look at him… he _wanted_ her to. He wanted her to _want_ to look at him. So he turned away from her and stood.

"You should rest now. I require you functioning at your best," he said.

She sighed, an action that could clearly be seen in the movement of her shoulders.

"I will escort you back to your quarters." He looked down at her. "I cannot have you falling overboard."

"No need," she slurred as she attempted to stand.

Instead, she stumbled into the storage container. Bane reached for her in the attempt to keep her steady but she twisted from his grasp before he could touch her.

"I got it," she stated, giving him a wide berth as she walked past him.

He followed closely behind her as she made her way to her quarters. Once there, they met Quincy who was standing in the hallway awaiting her return. She opened the door to her room and walked inside, immediately closing the door behind her without another word. Bane looked upon her closed door for a beat before turning to walk back in the direction he came from.

"Watch her," Bane said as he turned his head to address Quincy over his shoulder.

* * *

Isadora was grateful to not have a hangover when she awoke the next morning. She was also grateful that she was able to sleep through the night, having passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow. Her gratitude ended there, however, as her actions from the night before took up residence in the forefront of her mind. First, she consumed half a bottle of whiskey on an empty stomach. Second, she went up on deck without an escort. Third, and more importantly, she had a rather candid discussion with the monster, himself, before he returned her to her room where she shut the door in his face.

She sat in her bunk for some time, her face buried in her hands, before she forced herself out of bed and into the shower; her stomach demanding sustenance. And there was also the fact that she was not entirely comfortable having left her laptop in Radio the night before when she fled.

Dressing in a loose, black mesh top, a cut-off denim mini-skirt, herringbone tights and grey high-top sneakers, she practically ran out the door to get to Radio before going to the mess hall. Quincy was waiting for her outside her door when she appeared. He stood up straight upon seeing her emerge. She almost ran into him in her haste.

"Morning, Ma'am."

"Good morning, Quincy," she said as she turned and started walking down the hallway in a hurry. "I need to stop by Radio on the way to breakfast to get my laptop."

Quincy didn't respond; he just followed her, looking at the state of her after last night. He wouldn't admit to anyone other than himself that he was concerned that Bane would harm her for breaking his rules, rules that he put in place specifically for her benefit, but she seemed ok.

When they arrived in Radio, she grabbed her laptop while Quincy waited at the door. Once she had what she needed, she went to exit, walking past Quincy and straight into Bane, who was just entering from around the corner. Thankfully, she was able to stop herself from making contact with his body, but she over-corrected herself, stumbling backwards a bit.

"Excuse me," she said, her eyes looking anywhere but at him.

Bane eyed her for a moment before stepping to the side to allow her to pass, not saying a word. She slid past him, thankful that he did not speak to her. Quincy followed her out, nodding to Bane in passing.

Quincy observed that, once again, the mess hall went absolutely silent upon his arrival with the girl. He also thought it was odd that all tables in the mess hall were uncommonly full at every meal since breakfast the day before. The breakfast shift was almost over, and yet the crew continued to linger where they would usually scatter after eating. Though he had only known Jack Frost for one day, he was beginning to feel genuine concern for her wellbeing, concern that went above and beyond what duty required of him.

Isadora followed Quincy through the food line, arranging food on her plate from the staple selection of scrambled eggs, breakfast meats, and breads. She took a criminally large helping, having eaten only one meal the day before. After pouring herself a cup of coffee, she managed to balance her breakfast with care as she walked to the table where Eli sat. She took the only empty seat, casually acknowledging the two unknown men sitting across from her before Quincy made them go away. It appeared that she was not only relegated to certain areas on the ship, but certain crewmembers as well.

Eli couldn't help but feel self-satisfied with his role on the ship in regards to Jack Frost. It was like… being able to sit at the popular kids' table in the high school cafeteria. With Jack Frost at his side, he would be shown the respect he deserved.

Eli caught her eye and smiled. "How's it going, Frost?"

"Good morning, Fonzie," she offered, taking a bite of a fatty piece of bacon.

"What happened to you last night? You just disappeared." Eli stared at her, waiting for her to answer.

Isadora finished swallowing her piece of bacon and then spoke, smiling at her forkful of scrambled eggs in front of her, "Oh, you know… _woman_ troubles."

Quincy, of course, had a pretty good idea why she fled the night before. He found her explanation entertaining, though, and was impressed at how tactfully she could divert attention from herself. He hoped that Bane would not ask him to kill her... he would do it, of course... but he hoped he wouldn't have to.

"WHOOOAAA… Say no more, I don't want to know!" Eli practically cringed.

She rolled her eyes at his response. _'Men are all the same,'_ she thought. At least it got him to lay off the questioning. It was beginning to become clear that Fonzie might have, in the past, portrayed himself as someone he wasn't. He seemed more like a Potsie than a Fonzie; past lascivious exploits being more exaggeration than fact.

* * *

Now that the preliminaries were out of the way, Eli and Isadora could start the exciting work. After breakfast that morning, they met back in Radio where Isadora assigned Eli the job of programming vulnerabilities into Flora-tech's network, streamlining their eventual security breach. The work was minimal in her opinion, but she could trust Eli to do the job correctly, with her guidance.

Isadora went to work programming the malware she would use to break into the device, effectively taking control of the unit so she could physically get inside and not blow herself up. Unfortunately, she wouldn't be able to test her cocktail of infections until the device was in their possession.

"Alright Frost, let's break for lunch," Eli said when 12:00 hours arrived.

"I'll meet you in there," she said. "I just need to finish testing this code you wrote."

"Yeah, ok," he agreed, walking out the door.

This would be a good opportunity to make contact with Lucius Fox. She had to work quickly.

Eli had created a botnet of all employee computers within the Flora-tech network, local and worldwide, effectively turning all computers into zombie computers. It would be through these computers, chosen at random, that she would keep in contact with Lucius for the duration of her employment, knowing that her communication would not be seen as anything other than her 'testing code' if Eli were to look. Using her selected zombie computer, she created a private encoded message containing one attachment and emailed it to Lucius.

She hoped that Lucius would be able to read between the lines in her message, as it was coming directly from within Flora-tech. The attachment was a scanned image of the blueprint of the device, which conveniently contained the most vital pieces of information to her task, even listing the contents of the device as VEX. Lucius would have to take it upon himself to do the rest of the research, but at least she led him to Flora-tech, the name of the virus, and the schematics of the device it was kept in. Hopefully he would be able to devise a plan and get back with her to let her know her part.

Satisfied that the 'code' she had been testing was sufficient, she shut down her laptop and took it with her as she went to meet Eli for lunch, Quincy trailing behind her as usual.

* * *

"Please let me know as soon as Mathew is back in the office; I would like to go over last quarter's figures for Applied Sciences." Lucius Fox handed a stack of recently signed documents to Patrick, his executive assistant.

"Of course, Sir," Patrick replied, taking the stack of documents and exiting the office.

His computer pinged with an incoming email. Turning back to his computer, Lucius opened it. Before him was a rather odd message originating from someone at the Flora-tech Institute.

**To: Lucius Fox**  
**From: i . morozko  flora-tech . com  
Subject: Frosting Recipe**  
**Attachment: frosting . pdf**

After a moment, a smile began to appear on his face. It appeared that Jack Frost was still alive and finally making contact. He opened the attachment. What he saw had him instantly concerned. Lucius picked up his phone and called his assistant.

"Patrick, please call Mathew in from wherever he is and call a meeting in my conference room with all lead specialists from Applied Sciences. Immediately, please."

"Yes, Sir," Patrick said before Lucius disconnected the line.

* * *

The next few days were spent in the same manner. Breakfast, and then programming; lunch, and then programming; dinner, and then programming; sleep, and then wake up the next morning and start all over again. Programming code could be a tedious job, and a project of this magnitude would require time. How much time, Isadora wasn't entirely sure.

They were left to do their work in peace, rarely seeing anyone other than each other while on the job. Atticus was a constant presence, though, he watched the security monitors in Radio during the day shift, which was a 16-hour workday. And Quincy, of course, was always around, diligent in his task at being the personal escort to Jack Frost.

Bane, she was told by Quincy, was off-ship at that time, and for that she was thankful.

It was while she was being escorted back to her room one evening that Isadora stopped Quincy. Hesitant, she asked, "Quincy?"

He stopped and looked at her. "Yes?"

"You said that I could venture into other parts of the ship if I had an escort, right?"

"Yes," he confirmed.

"Would there be someplace I could go to do a little free-running?" She half-cringed when she asked him, thinking that he would tell her no.

He was suddenly confused at her request, not quite understanding what she meant. "Free-running?"

"Yeah," she hesitated. "You know… Parkour?"

"Ah!" he exclaimed in sudden realization. He was intrigued. The practice of Parkour was an art, that of which he had never been able to practice enough to master. Even more so, he had never seen a woman very successful at it and he was interested in watching her perform. He thought the well deck would be a perfect place, the different sizes of storage containers would provide a sufficient challenge for her. "I think I know just the place. We will meet at 06:00 hours tomorrow morning, before breakfast."

Isadora couldn't contain the smile on her face. "Thank you." She had been itching to run for the past week and had no outlet to do so. Waving goodbye to Quincy, she entered her room and shut the door behind her.

* * *

Shortly after 6:00 A.M. the next morning, Isadora followed Quincy as they trekked through the maze of hallways and stairwells on the ship. She tied her hair into a ponytail and was dressed in her usual workout clothes; black running pants that fit close to her body, a black sports bra and black zip-up hoodie. The ship's layout was still unfamiliar to her, until they ended up on the well deck.

"Here we are," Quincy said, casually.

"The well deck? Are you sure I can be in here?" She was skeptical, not wanting to anger anyone, especially Bane.

"I think it will give you a nice challenge. And it's only in use but once or twice a day. You shouldn't be in anyone's way, I'll make sure of that."

Isadora looked around for a moment, walking in between the storage containers. The well deck was indeed empty at the moment, unlike the mass of armed men that occupied this space when she first arrived.

"I thought I might run as well, if I won't be intruding?" Quincy called from behind her.

"Not at all," she shrugged.

She unzipped her hoodie and placed it over a railing at the back of the well deck. Without another word, she took off, warming up her muscles by running around the floor of the well deck for a little while.

Quincy joined her. She usually didn't run with a partner, but she had found Quincy to be good company and didn't mind his presence. He wore grey running pants and a black tank top, which she only noted after he shed his own jacket. The burn scars were much more visible now, covering most of his body from the neck down. She was curious as to how they got there, but she would never ask.

Isadora didn't realize it, but her appearance was also being observed. Quincy could see a very long, very deep scar running between her breasts down her sternum. A second scar; more jagged but smaller in size, intersected the vertical scar, extending out maybe two inches over her left breast. He deduced that the vertical scar originated from some form of heart surgery, perhaps as the result of it's more jagged counterpart. It didn't look recent, perhaps within the last 10 years.

Pulling himself away from his thoughts, he wanted to see what Frost could do. "Ok Frost, show me what you got," he said playfully from beside her.

Without a moments notice, she ran for a set of rather tall containers that were set up at a right angle, creating a corner. Using her momentum and the containers for leverage, she ran upwards, pushing herself up by alternating each step on the sides of each container, eventually landing on top. She didn't stop there as she ran along the length of the container then jumped over the large gap separating her from the next one. She did this along the entire length of the well deck, changing techniques for every gap she jumped. Sometimes she leapt over the gap like a practiced ballet dancer, other times she would twist and rotate her body 360 degrees over a gap only to land, grasping the edges of a stack of containers she was aiming for and then pulling herself up onto it. When she reached the other end, she turned around and made her way back in the same fashion, only this time, when reaching the catwalk along the edge of the well deck, she took hold of the railing and jumped from her current position on one container, feet first, through the railings of the catwalk to land neatly on the other side.

Her muscles were burning with the exertion, but she didn't want to rest yet. She had something else she wanted to try and she saw the perfect spot to do it.

Quincy was incredibly entertained watching her run the length of the well deck and back. He smiled when she slipped through the railings of the catwalk with graceful form. He watched then as she began running down the isle of the catwalk, tumbling forward several times, using different techniques. She made it to the far corner where the catwalk abruptly ended and the stairs that ascended from the ground floor up to the catwalk began. Stepping up onto the middle railing, she took hold of the top railing with her hands, and then lifted herself up, swinging her legs up and above her until she was holding herself in a handstand, her back to the well deck. He watched as she kept her body straight and then eased her legs forward, away from the catwalk, until she tipped over the edge, flipping forward into an upright position just as she fell to the ground floor, landing with precision like a practiced gymnast.

It was then that Isadora realized that she had acquired an audience. Many of the crew had gathered along the back of the well deck to watch her run, all of them cheering as she landed on her feet. She felt slightly embarrassed then, deciding that it may be a good time to stop and go get some breakfast before she had to start her work day.

She met up with Quincy who had just jumped down from his perch on top of a container. He walked her towards the back of the well deck to retrieve her hoodie.

"Not bad, Frost." He smiled at her.

"Thanks," she said with a sideways glance.

As they made their way to the back of the well deck, the crew's murmuring came to an abrupt halt as Bane appeared, the small crowd parting with ease as Bane walked forward. Any members of the crew that were on the well deck at that point removed themselves immediately. Isadora observed that Bane was dressed casually today. The vest and body armor were gone and he was dressed in black, military-style cargo pants and a tight, black t-shirt that looked too small on his huge frame.

Isadora stopped walking as Bane slowly advanced on her. Again, she looked anywhere but at him, opting to let her gaze fall on the outer edges of his form.

"Sir," Quincy began. "I apologize for any interruption. I gave Jack Frost my permission to utilize the well deck for her training."

Bane did not acknowledge Quincy other than to say, "Leave us."

Quincy hesitated for a split second before grabbing his jacket and assault rifle, and then walking off of the well deck, leaving Bane and Jack Frost alone.

Bane, who was a few paces away from Isadora, advanced on her further with ease. "You have remarkable skill for so small a person." He had, in fact, been watching her the entire time from the control room at the back of the well deck.

Isadora said nothing.

"I am interested to know," he began, stopping his advancement and towering over her, "why do you train in this manner?"

Still choosing to not look up at him, she answered, "Let's just say that when it comes to battle, I am better skilled to evade than engage."

"And what shall you do when you are caught?" He found himself truly interested in her answer.

"I'm not afraid to die," was all she offered.

"This much I have gathered. But, perhaps, you should learn to defend yourself," he said, hoping that she would rise to his challenge.

She was suspicious of him now. "And you will teach me, I suppose?"

"Yes."

_'Uh-uh. No way,' _she thought. "No. Thank you. I think I can survive just fine without your help." She stepped past him then, walking over to the railing to grab her hoodie.

A sudden idea came to Bane as she walked around him. He followed closely behind her. "Shall we make a wager?"

She turned and looked at him then, eliciting a flash in his eyes. "A wager?"

"We will run the area," he said as he gestured in the general vicinity of the well deck, "but if I catch you, I win."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "And what do you get if you win?"

Suddenly, he was upon her. "You will tell me your true name."

Isadora looked away from him then, processing it all in her head. She couldn't tell him her full name; he would use that information against her eventually, and she had people she needed to protect. And she couldn't lie, because he would know.

Looking back at him, she responded, "And if I win?"

He laughed at the absurdity of her question. She wouldn't win, he would make sure of that. "What do you want?" he asked.

She didn't hesitate. "Eli and his mother."

His eyes were serious. "No." He watched her reaction before adding, "The fate of Mr. Horowitz and his mother are not on the table. I want information from you, and you may ask the same of me."

She sighed, supposing it was only fair. _'Tit for Tat,' _she thought. She looked around, as if the answer would appear before her. Thinking about it for a moment, she finally looked up at him and smiled.

Bane faltered. He found that it pleased him when she smiled, even a smile as devious as the one she was showing him in that moment.

"You will let me see you without your mask on," she stated.

He said nothing at first, smirking under his mask. He changed his stance, standing up a bit straighter. "Agreed."

"A couple of stipulations, though. If you win, I will only give you my first name, not my full name. It's that or the deal is off," she said, and then added, "and I will give you 10 minutes to catch me. No more."

Bane laughed, internally. It would not take him that long to catch her. But as long as conditions were being added, he thought to mention another.

"Given the nature of our wager," he began, "in order to catch you, I will have to touch you."

She winced. As part of her employment demands, it was extremely important to her that no one touch her. Bane knew that, of course, baiting her to see if she would back down from their agreement and just give him the information he wanted.

Isadora lifted her chin; that look of defiance that pleased Bane so much was present on her face. "You can try."

A dark, predatory look appeared on Bane's face. It was something that Isadora had not yet seen on him. It made her take an involuntary step back.

Seeing her reaction to him, he relented, stepping back from her as well. "We will meet back here this evening, at 20:00 hours."

She nodded in agreement.

"I will escort you to Crew's Mess," he said, gesturing for her to walk ahead of him.

It was as she passed him that he was finally able to take in the sight of her. Although he admired the shape of her body, her brilliant blue eyes, and the way her skin glistened enticingly after physical exertion, those things were not what caught his eye. Walking beside her, he looked upon her from his current position, noting the deep scarring on her chest.

"The scars," he said. "What are they from?"

Suddenly very aware of how exposed she was if Bane could see her scars, she quickly put her hoodie back on and zipped it up to her neck.

Now that she felt sufficiently covered, she answered with hesitation, unsure of what exactly she should say, "My heart is… fragile."

Her answer was cryptic. Bane would not push her for more, instead he looked forward and said no more on the matter, letting her have her scars as he surely had his own.


	7. Chapter Six

It seemed that the entire crew was on the well deck that evening after dinner, all of them spectators to Bane's challenge. How, exactly, this became known to the entire ship, Isadora could not fathom. The well deck was lit for darkness, the same muted green light like the night she first arrived on board.

At breakfast that morning, word had already spread about the young woman training with Quincy on the well deck. When Eli asked her about it, she had divulged to him that she and Bane were going to have a friendly little competition that evening to try out her skills against his. Apparently the word spread.

Quincy and Eli followed her onto the well deck. She felt like she was the visiting team in a rival sports stadium, and hoped that the home-field advantage would not affect her ability to win. She caught murmured exchanges between the crewmembers, some of them taking bets on the outcome of their wager.

Bane arrived last. Shedding his shirt so he was bare from the waste up, he looked upon Jack Frost with obvious excitement. He would win their little wager; he had no doubt in his mind.

Isadora was suddenly very intimidated at the sight of Bane. He was massive, his shirtless torso revealing defined muscles and gnarled scars, the most prominent being the one that began just below his neck and extended down his spine. Her heart pounded in some mixture of fear and anticipation, knowing that it would take little effort for him to end her life. She wondered how the hell she got herself into this position in the first place.

Leaning towards Quincy who stood beside her, she asked, "Quincy, you and I are… friendly… right?"

"I suppose we are," he answered.

"Do you have any pointers for me?" she asked, hopeful that Quincy would give her some amount of advice that would quell her fears.

"Don't get caught." It was all he said, but in his eyes she could see that he was, no doubt, entertained by her situation.

She sighed and gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Thanks, Coach," she said with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

Bane approached her. "Are you ready, Jack Frost?"

"Yes," she said, looking him square in the eyes, her chin held high.

_'You are mine,' _he thought, as he looked her over, sizing her up. And it suddenly occurred to him that she could be his, not just because he bested her in their little game, but in a wholly different way. She may not understand his world, but she had acclimated to it so nicely, like she was born to it. Mercenary work would suit her, and with his guidance, she could become a very valuable tool; his tool… his weapon. He found that he was excited at that prospect, however unlikely it may be.

Quincy spoke. "I will keep the time. You will start on opposite ends of the well deck."

Bane took his leave, walking to the front of the well deck. Within the sea of storage containers, he eventually disappeared from sight, hiding in wait for the game to begin. The gaps between the stacks of storage containers were in deep shadow; providing the perfect means for an ambush.

This, of course, made Isadora even more nervous. If she didn't know where he was, how could she make sure to stay away from him? She was fast; she knew that would be her only advantage. He was strong; she couldn't let him overpower her.

The well deck became deathly quiet.

Isadora took her position, shedding her hoodie and throwing it off to the side.

"10 minutes!" Quincy shouted. "On your mark!"

It seemed as if the entire ship was holding its breath.

"Go!" Quincy yelled, starting the timer.

Isadora ran, vaulting herself over a smaller storage container that was in her way. She moved in a quadrupedal manner up the side of a larger container. When she reached the top, she hoisted herself up and over the side and made her way to the edge of the well deck. She needed an elevated position so Bane would not trap her between the storage containers on the floor level. She leapt across a gap, rolling as she landed. Then she spotted him. He was standing atop a large storage container a few stacks behind her. He was rushing toward her, jumping the gaps with ease.

Upon reaching the catwalk that ran above her along the perimeter walls of the well deck, she jumped up and grabbed the middle railing, pulling herself up and through. She looked back and saw Bane had the same idea, quickly vaulting himself over the top railing and onto the catwalk behind her. He advanced on her again.

Running along the catwalk for the far corner of the well deck, she realized that Bane was gaining on her, so she stepped up onto the top railing of the catwalk and balanced herself as she ran the length of it. Instead of taking the corner, she leapt through the air, cutting the corner to land on the top railing of the adjacent catwalk. She almost lost her balance as she landed, her arms pin wheeling as she tried to steady herself. Jumping down into the isle, she then immediately vaulted over the railing to a high stack of containers next to her.

Jumping a few more gaps between stacks of containers, she didn't bother paying attention to her technique. She was literally running for her life and she refused to let Bane catch her.

On one particularly wide gap, she jumped but could not fully make it to the other side. As she began to fall, she caught hold of the edge of the container and pulled herself up. This mistake slowed her down, and seeing Bane following her through the route she had taken, she decided that it was time to try to lose him. Standing on the edge of one large stack of containers, she back-flipped off the side and down to the floor, running off through the gaps as quietly as possible so that Bane would lose track of her.

"Five-minute warning!" she heard Quincy call out.

Stopping to take a breath and listen for Bane's position, she heard him speak.

"You're breathing is positively erratic. Does the chase excite you? Frighten you…?" He was teasing her, yet his tone was menacing.

From her position, it didn't sound like he was close to her, but she couldn't assume. She needed to keep him talking so she could pinpoint his position and get herself out of danger.

"Nothing frightens me," she said, convincing no one. Her breathing was indeed erratic.

Isadora peeked around the corner of one container, making sure her path was clear before she moved along. She was hoping to reach a rather small stack of containers that she could conquer quickly, getting her into a more elevated position.

"Is that why you are so eager to see the monster behind the mask?" he sneered.

Bane was closer than she thought; she had to move. As she ran for the small stack of containers, Bane was suddenly in her path. He loomed over her, his silhouette black against the creepy green lighting within the well deck. She made a last minute decision to alter her course and ran down a gap that was between her and Bane. He attempted to grapple her, but she was too quick for him. She may have slipped through his fingers but, unfortunately, she found herself backed up into the corner of two very tall containers. Isadora had nowhere to go but back the way she came.

"And what of your own mask?" he continued, following her into the area she was trapped in. "When I win our little wager, what will I find behind it?"

His arrogance irritated her. Moving at a speed that she did not know she possessed, she ran upwards along the sides of the containers, using her momentum to push herself up, just like she did that morning. Once at the top, she turned back and was shocked to see Bane almost upon her, climbing up after her with the speed of a freight train.

She jumped a few stacks of containers, making her way to the catwalk again. She jumped upon the railing, vaulting herself over and into the isle. Then something happened that she didn't expect. The doors to the well deck, the doors that effectively kept the water on the outside of the ship, began to open. She looked to Bane in shock as he stood atop a nearby stack of crates, his eyes shining with arrogance.

_'What the fuck is he doing?' _she screamed in her head, knowing that Bane probably told his men beforehand to flood the well deck at some point. "Fuck…" she muttered.

Isadora ran down the catwalk, looking over her shoulder to see that Bane was still on her tail. She rounded the corner of the catwalk and then came to an abrupt stop, realizing that she had just made a huge mistake. Around the next corner was the end of the catwalk at the front of the well deck, where she dove off the railing earlier that day. There were no stacks of containers nearby to assist her descent. Of course she could dive over the side to the ground floor like she did that morning, but now the deck was taking on water and she would be swept away.

"There is… nowhere left for you to go." Bane was amused with the turn of events, knowing that he had already won. "Submit. Tell me your name," he demanded.

"30 seconds!" Quincy shouted over the noise of the flooding waters.

She turned to face Bane and watched as he slowly approached her, causing her to back away from him along the catwalk. Looking wildly around her, she tried to find some way out. There were possibilities, but they would be dangerous. She could win their little wager, or just as easily kill herself by falling into the water below. She decided to take a literal leap of faith.

"You think you have me trapped?" she asked, her tone smug.

"I have caught you, Jack Frost." He looked her over, suggestively, from head to toe; like a predator cornering his prey.

Isadora smiled. "You have no idea what I'm capable of."

It pleased him to see that defiant look on her face again, knowing that it made catching her so much sweeter.

"Then act," he said, holding his arms out wide as a way of saying that she would never get past him, but she could try. "Quickly!" he growled as he lunged toward her.

Isadora spun around and ran as fast as she could up the length of the wall beside her, giving her the momentum she so desperately needed before turning sharply and throwing herself over the railing. Launching herself like an arrow, she shot over the wide expanse hoping to reach the stack of containers that she knew was too far away.

"Time!" Quincy yelled, as she was still in mid-air.

In that moment, it was no longer about catching Jack Frost to win a wager; in her desperate move to get away from him, Bane simultaneously reached out in desperation to keep her from falling. He felt disappointment churn within him, knowing that she would take such a risk rather than give up her name, that she would leave her welfare to chance than let him touch her. And yet, watching her as she launched herself from the catwalk, he was reminded of his Talia and her daring jump to escape the Pit. This girl was so like his Talia that he couldn't help but smile.

Isadora landed hard. She felt a sharp pain resonate below her right knee as she rolled across the top of a large storage container. Unable to stop her momentum, she fell over the far side but was able to grab the edge before she could fall into the water below. She hung there, looking up at the ceiling of the well deck as she tried to pull herself back up and onto the storage container. She was unsuccessful, unable to catch her breath and just hoping that she could hold on long enough until the doors of the well deck closed completely and the water in the flooded deck could drain out.

It was then that the crew erupted into cheers.

Isadora laughed, breathlessly. She was losing her grip. Knowing that she would not be able to hold on much longer, she mentally prepared herself for the inevitable fall and the painful landing.

Bane walked back along the catwalk until he reached a place that he could vault over the side and onto a stack of containers. He could see that she was injured, struggling to pull herself up onto the container so she would not have to fall to the floor.

Although Isadora was tired and a sharp pain pulsated through her leg, she forced herself to move. Trying to take it slow, she gasped in pain as she let her fingers slip from the edge of the container, bracing herself to hit the floor.

Watching as she struggled, Bane was upon her within seconds. Before she could hit the ground, he reached out to her falling form and caught her. She gasped in surprise. Holding her in his arms, he observed that her leg was bleeding from a gash along her shin, no doubt from slamming into the side of the container upon her landing.

"You are hurt," he said, watching as she looked upon him with wide eyes.

Isadora stiffened. "Please put me down." Her words were quiet but they were a desperate plea.

"You need medical attention." Bane began walking towards the exit at the back of the well deck, with no intention of putting her down until he reached the infirmary.

"It's nothing," she said, beginning to squirm in his arms.

He tightened his grip.

"Be still," he demanded, her struggling beginning to annoy him. He was only trying to assure her that she was safe with him, that she could trust him to help her.

Isadora looked to Quincy who walked beside them. He nodded, urging her to just take the assistance being offered. Looking back to Bane then, eyeing him skeptically, she stopped struggling, though she held her body as stiff as possible, unconsciously leaning away from him. His skin was damp and cool to the touch. He was gentle with her, something she did not anticipate, expecting him to be rough with her instead, using his brute strength to handle her.

Bane observed her warm skin, slick with perspiration. Being such a small thing, she was light in his arms. But she no longer looked at him, and instead leaned away from him. He would glance at her occasionally, and he noted how she kept her jaw clenched tight. Bane was irritated at her reaction to him. She must think him a fiend, he realized. He must repulse her. He didn't know why this realization made him uncomfortable.

They made their way two levels up from the well deck. Amin, one of the ship's three commanding officers and the only doctor, emerged from his office when they entered the infirmary. He had heard about the new addition to their crew, but had not had the opportunity to meet her. Amin watched as Bane carried her forward. Bane stood before him and waited for his instruction. He searched for her injury, spotting the bloody area below her right knee, and then gestured to an examination table.

Bane lowered her safely to the examination table. She unintentionally slipped her hands down his chest as she attempted to right herself. He kept his hold on her waist to keep her steady, and then gradually let go of her.

"Thank you," she said, not noticing the way Bane stared after her as he backed away.

The man standing before her was much older than most of the crew. She had never seen him before, assuming that he spent most of his time in the infirmary. Given the types of activities that the crew would surely partake in, he was probably called to duty at a moment's notice.

"Brother," Amin nodded to Bane in greeting.

Isadora was confused. Were they brothers? Or was it just a title of affection? The thought of Bane being affectionate toward anyone was laughable. She looked back and forth between Bane and the older man.

"You must be Jack Frost," Amin said, his tone amiable. "I am Amin, the ship's doctor."

She gave a nod, "Hello."

He could sense her apprehension, so he proceeded as if examining a child. "Well, let's see what we have here shall we?" He took note of her appearance, processing her in a clinical way that any doctor would do with a patient, stopping only briefly at the scars along her sternum before seeing to her leg.

Bane and Quincy stood off to the side, observing the doctor's work.

Isadora watched as Amin cut away at her pant leg, removing just enough of the fabric to expose her injury. He went about cleaning the wound first, before deciding on a course of action. It was a clean gash, only requiring six stitches, a thick bandage and a gauze wrapping. As Amin tested her reflexes, she looked up to see Bane speaking with Quincy in a hushed tone. She then watched as Quincy turned to leave.

Calling her attention back to him, Amin spoke, "It appears that you have survived a rather grave wound." Amin nodded toward her chest. "How long ago?"

She was wary of answering any questions from the doctor, as he would surely relay any information to Bane. Briefly glancing in Bane's direction, she answered, "Seven years."

"Do you require any medications?" he asked, gently pulling the gauze around her leg.

"I require nothing from you. Thank you."

Amin looked into her eyes, gauging her blunt response. She was being cautious, and rightfully so. He smiled at her determination. Having just finished wrapping her knee, he watched as Bane approached. "Try to keep off it for at least two days," Amin said, tidying up the area around her and putting away his materials. "I will send you with crutches."

"Thank you," she said, giving him a polite yet tight-lipped smile as she watched him retreat to his office.

Bane also watched the doctor as he walked back to his office. "You were incorrect, Jack Frost."

Uncertain what he meant, her forehead wrinkled in response.

He turned to look upon her then, "You had told me your heart was fragile, when in fact, you have the heart of a lion."

She wasn't sure whether or not it was correct to feel flattered at his words.

"I believe the time has come for me to make good on our wager," he said, situating himself on the other examination table beside her.

Isadora found herself instantly curious, enough to swing her legs over the side of the table to face Bane, but also somewhat fearful of what he was about to show her.

He was preparing himself for her response, watching her with interest as she observed him. He didn't take his eyes off her as he worked to release the mask, undoing the latches near the back of his head that secured the mask in place. He carefully lifted the mask off his head and placed it on the table next to him. Bane watched as she looked upon his face, her eyes darting over it. Her reaction was not what he expected.

Unconsciously leaning forward, Isadora took in every inch of his features, her lips parting with bewilderment. He was not what she expected. He looked so… normal. He looked younger than she would have thought, although his actual age was still a mystery. After a moment, she pulled herself back.

"You're quite handsome… for a monster."

Her eyes flashed when she called him handsome. This caused Bane to smile, even though her tone was skeptical. He observed the way she faltered at his smile, eyeing his mouth. He then watched as her curiosity began to take over. Leaning forward again, she reached out with her fingers as if she were aiming to touch his lips. Bane was shocked into stillness at the idea that she was about to willingly touch him, his eyes growing wider in anticipation.

Isadora caught herself at the last moment, checking herself and pulling her hand back. She wondered again at the mask's purpose. It appeared to have none. He did not seem to be in pain or struggling for breath without it. She concluded that it really was _just_ a mask.

"Will you speak to me? Without the mask on?"

Bane hesitated, and then spoke. "I would say that hearing my natural voice was not part of our bargain, but I suppose I could offer a small allowance."

Her brow furrowed, the sound of his voice was not what she had expected. She assumed the mask altered his voice quite a bit, creating what she could only describe as a dangerous tone. But it only amplified the sound of his natural voice, she realized. His tone was already a deep and demanding thing. It led armies, incited revolutions, and put fear into the hearts of man. He was not a normal man; he was, indeed, a monster. She couldn't help but feel justified in her sudden fear.

Bane smiled at her reaction to his voice.

Seeing him smile caused her to look away. She could not account for his smile. It was the smile of angel on the body of a demon. She couldn't help blushing as her eyes shot back and forth over his face, embarrassed at her reaction.

Bane tilted his head to the side, her sudden behavior was curious.

Isadora took a deep breath, trying to pull herself together. "And such a kind smile," she said, choosing to not look at him anymore. "You should really consider leaving the mask off. Knowing what you are capable of, and a smile like that… you look positively diabolical."

His smile faltered. He suddenly felt like he was an open wound, exposed without his mask on, something for her to poke and prod.

She couldn't help but look back at him, and the disappointment she saw in his face could not be ignored. It confused her. Did she hurt his feelings? Impossible. Watching him struggle to put his mask back on, she felt regret at her words.

Bane felt defensive upon seeing the way she was looking at him once more, so he checked his emotions and took control of the conversation. Bane stood up from the table and retrieved the set of crutches that Amin left for her and handed them over. He watched as she slid off the table, using the crutches to right herself.

"Come along, Little Lionheart," he said, smirking under his mask. If she would not tell him her true name, he would give her a new one, something he thought more fitting.

Isadora did not acknowledge his name for her; she just walked on past, intent on going back to her room and finally going to bed.

Amin watched from his office as Bane escorted the girl from the infirmary, disconcerted at Bane's behavior in allowing her to see his face without the mask. Only a very select few had that privilege. Himself included. He didn't know who this girl was, but intuition told him to be wary.


End file.
